Antonio Gramsci Selections From The Prison Notebooks

SELECTIONS FROM THE

PRISON NOTEBOOKS

OF

ANTONIO GRAMSCI

edited and translated by
QUINTIN HOARE
and

GEOFFREY NOWELL SMITH

INTERNATIONAL PUBLISHERS
New York

Published simultaneously by Lawrence & Wishart, London, and
International Publishers, New York

© Quintin Hoare and Geoffrey Nowell Smith, 1971
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

First edition, igji
11th Printing, 1932

ISBN 0-7178-0397-X (Paperback)
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number 73-77646

Manufactured in the United States of America

CONTENTS

PREFACE ix

INTRODUCTION xvii
I. PROBLEMS OF HISTORY AND CULTURE

1. THE INTELLECTUALS

Introduction 3

The Formation of the Intellectuals 5
The Different Position of Urban and Rural-Type

Intellectuals 14

2. ON EDUCATION

Introduction 24

The Organisation of Education and Culture 26

In Search of the Educational Principle 33

3. NOTES ON ITALIAN HISTORY

Introduction 44
History of the Subaltern Classes: Methodological

Criteria 52
The Problem of Political Leadership in the Forma-
tion and Development of the Nation and the

Modern State in Italy 55

The City-Countryside Relationship go

The Moderates and the Intellectuals 102

The Function of Piedmont 104

The Concept of Passive Revolution 106

First Epilogue 114

Material for a Critical Essay on Croce's Two Histories 114

The History of Europe seen as "Passive Revolution" 118

II. NOTES ON POLITICS

I. THE MODERN PRINCE

Introduction 123

Brief Notes on Machiavelli's Politics 1 25

Machiavelli and Marx 133

Politics as an Autonomous Science 1 36

Elements of Politics 144

The Political Party 147

Conceptions of the World and Practical Stances 157

vi

GRAMSGi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

Some Theoretical and Practical Aspects of Econc-

mism 1 58

Prediction and Perspective 169

Economic-Corporate Phase of the State 1 73

Analysis of Situations. Relations of Force 175

On Bureaucracy 185

The Theorem of Fixed Proportions 190

Number and Quality in Representative Systems of

Government 19 2

Continuity and Tradition 193

Spontaneity and Conscious Leadership 196

Against Byzantinism 200

The Collective Worker 201

Voluntarism and Social Masses 202

2. STATE AND CIVIL SOCIETY

Introduction 206

Political Parties in Periods of Organic Crisis 210

Caesarism 219

The Fable of the Beaver 223

Agitation and Propaganda 227

The "Philosophy of the Epoch" 228

Political Struggle and Military War 229
The Transition from the War of Manoeuvre (Frontal

Attack) to the War of Position 238

Politics and Military Science 239

Internationalism and National Policy 240

Problem of the "Collective Man" or of "Social

Conformism" 242

Sociology and Political Science 243
Hegemony (Civil Society) and Separation of Powers 245

The Conception of Law 246

Politics and Constitutional Law 247

Parliament and the State 253

Self-criticism and the Hypocrisy of Self-criticism 254

The State 257

Organisation of National Societies 264

Who is a Legislator? 265

Religion, State, Party 266

State and Parties 267

Statolatry 268

"Merits" of the Ruling Classes 269

CONTENTS Vii

Historical Belles-Lettres 270

"Subversive" 272

"Wave of Materialism" and "Crisis of Authority" 275

3. AMERICANISM AND FORDISM

Introduction 277

Americanism and Fordism 279
Rationalisation of the Demographic Composition of

Europe 280

Super-City and Super-Country 287

Financial Autarky of Industry 289

Some Aspects of the Sexual Question 294

Feminism and "Masculinism" 297

"Animality" and Industrialism 298

Rationalisation of Production and Work 301

Taylor and Americanism 306

Quantity and Quality 307

Taylorism and the Mechanisation of the Worker 308

High Wages 310

Shares, Debentures and Government Bonds 313

American and European Civilisation 316

III. THE PHILOSOPHY OF PRAXIS

1. THE STUDY OF PHILOSOPHY

Irtroduction 321

Some Preliminary Points of Reference 323

Problems of Philosophy and History 34.3

2. PROBLEMS OF MARXISM

Introduction 378
Some Problems in the Study of the Philosophy of

Praxis 381
Critical Notes on an Attempt at Popular Sociology 419

INDEX

473

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

The editors would like to express their thanks to the Istituto
Gramsci in. Rome, holders of the copyright on Gramsci's Prison
Notebooks, for permission to publish the present selection and for
allowing them to consult and to copy from the photostat of Gramsci's
manuscript in the possession of the Institute. Particular thanks for
their assistance are due to Dr Elsa Fubini and Prof. Valentino
Gerratana of the staff of the Institute, and to the director, Franco
Ferri. The initiative for the publication of this volume came from
Roger Simon and Steve Bodington, who have supervised its progress
throughout, making many invaluable suggestions, and without
whose stimulus the work would have taken even longer to complete.

We would like to acknowledge our indebtedness to certain books
without which the General Introduction could not have been
written. The most important of these sources is the series of books
on Turin working-class history and the early history of the Italian
Communist Party by Paolo Spriano. Also indispensable were
Giuseppe Fiori's biography, the Tasca archive material published
in the Annali Feltrinelli in 1 960 and 1 966, and the Marx Memorial
Library's collection of Comintern congress reports, etc.

Geoffrey Nowell Smith would like to thank all those who helped
or took part in the preparation of his sections of this edition, in
particular Rosalind Delmar, a constant collaborator on the volume
from its inception; John Merrington, Ian Steedman, Norman Geras
and Michael Evans; and Shirley Hill, who produced a flawless
typescript of his part of the translation.

PREFACE

EXISTING EDITIONS

The present edition comprises a selection of texts from the Notebooks
(Quaderni del car cere) written by Gramsci in prison between 1929 and
1935. There is still no critical edition of the Quaderni in Italian,
though one is in course of preparation at the Istituto Gramsci in
Rome. A preliminary edition containing the bulk of Gramsci's
original material, excepting translations and rejected drafts, was
brought out by the Turin publisher Einaudi in six volumes between
1948 and 1 95 1, under the editorship of Felice Platone. The same
edition contains a volume of Prison Letters {Lettere dal carcere, 1947),
now superseded by a more complete edition, and a series of volumes
of the pre- 1 926 writings, from the period prior to Gramsci's
imprisonment. Our selection is based on this Einaudi edition of the
Quaderni, with the addition of one or two previously unpublished
texts and with a slight rearrangement of the order in certain places.
References to the Einaudi or to other selections or translations of
Gramsci's works are given in these pages as follows:

Quaderni

MS. II materialismo storico e la Jilosojia di Benedetto Croce, 1948.

Int. Gli intellettuali e V organizzazione della cultura, 1949.

Ris. II Risorgimento, 1 949.

NM. Mote sul Machiavelli, sulla politica e sullo Stato moderno,
1949-

LVN. Letteratura e vita nazionale, 1950.

PP. Passato e presente, 1 95 1 .

Letters

LC. Lettere dal carcere, edited by S. Caprioglio and E. Fubini

Nuovo Universale Einaudi, Turin 1965.

Other editions referred to

GF. 2000 pagine di Gramsci, edited by N. Gallo and G.

Ferrata, Vol. I, "Nel tempo della lotta, 1914-1926",
II Saggiatore, Milan 1964. On pp. 797-819 of this
volume is published Gramsci's important essay on the
Southern Question (written immediately prior to his
arrest) : Alcuni temi della quistione meridionale, hereafter
referred to as "Alcuni temi".
(Vol. II consists of letters. Two further volumes are in
preparation.)

X

GRAMSCi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

OC. Oeuvres choisies de Antonio Gramsci, Editions Sociales,

Paris, 1959.

A previous English translation of some of the works of Gramsci
contained in this volume, together with one or two of the earlier
writings, translated and edited by Louis Marks, was published by
Lawrence and Wishart in 1957, under the title The Modern Prince
and other Essays. There also exist a number of Italian anthologies
and of translations of Gramsci's works into other languages. For a
selective bibliography of works of and about Gramsci we refer the
reader to the note at the end of the English translation of Giuseppe
Fiori's biography of Gramsci [Antonio Gramsci, Life of a Revolutionary,
translated by Tom Nairn, New Left Books, London 1970).

gramsci's prison notebooks

The problem of making a selection from Gramsci's Quaderni or
Prison Notebooks is complicated by two factors: the fragmentary
character of the writings themselves, and the uncertain status of the
Notebooks in Gramsci's intentions. From references in the Note-
books and in Gramsci's letters from prison it is possible to obtain
some indication of how Gramsci intended his work to be understood.
Soon after his arrest he wrote to his sister-in-law Tatiana (19 March
1927: LC. pp. 57-60) about a project of writing something "fur
ewig" (for ever), something which would also serve to absorb him
and "give a focus to [his] inner life". He mentions a plan for a
history of the Italian intellectuals, together with studies on lin-
guistics, on the theatre of Pirandello and on serial novels and
popular literary taste. However, in another letter to Tatiana
(15 December 1930: LC. pp. 389-92) he writes: "thinking 'dis-
interestedly' or study for its own sake are difficult for me ... I do
not like throwing stones in the dark; I like to have a concrete
interlocutor or adversary", and he speaks of the "polemical nature"
of his entire intellectual formation. Early in 1932, in a note in one
of his Quaderni (Q,.XXVIII), he describes a programme of "principal
essays" wider in scope than the previous one, with more political
and philosophical content, fairly close in its general outlines to
what has actually come down to us in the Quaderni. It is this
programme which forms the basis of the ordering of the material
of the Notebooks carried out by the Einaudi editors after the war.
Even so, many difficulties remain. Ill health and the unavailability
of books in the prison forced him to leave unfinished, to abandon

PREFACE

xi

or to modify certain plans. With his transfer to the prison clinic
in 1933 and consequent partial recovery, he began to recopy,
reorder and rework much of the material from the earlier notebooks.
But he did so with an extra caution, eliminating any surviving
words or phrases, like the name of Marx or the word "class",
which might attract the attention of the censor and so cause his
work to be brought to an end. Most significantly of all, in a note
in one of the Quaderni entitled "Questions of Method" (see below
pp. 382-86) he offers a warning, ostensibly about Marx but
equally if not more applicable to himself, against confusing un-
finished or unpublished work with works published and approved
by an author during his lifetime. In the same note he also refers
to the importance and to the inherent difficulties of reconstructing
the "intellectual biography" of an author. To perform such a task,
in relation to the Prison Notebooks, would be an immensely
valuable but also intricate labour. In default of this, however, and
given the circumstances in which the texts were written, any
unequivocal assertions about the aim and status of Gramsci's
theoretical project as contained or sketched out in the Notebooks
are necessarily speculative and must be recognised as such.

THIS EDITION : SELECTION AND TRANSLATION

While the above observations can be construed most simply as a
warning against taking as definitive or as having an unambiguous
intention texts whose form is often provisional and whose intention
is in some way veiled or uncertain, the problem of the fragmentary
character of Gramsci's original manuscript poses more immediate
problems. Gramsci's prison Quaderni number thirty-three in all,
several of them containing notes on a number of different subjects
or written over a period of a couple of years. Many of the notes are
isolated jottings. Others are so placed in the Quaderno as to make
their insertion into the main structure of Gramsci's arguments at
best hypothetical. Longer texts, about whose coherence and general
order there can be no doubt, are often partially revised in such a
way that it is necessary, in editing the text, to intersperse the
revised or rewritten sections with passages of which only an earlier
draft exists. Both in the classification of the notes according to
subject and in the ordering of particular items, we have, broadly
speaking, followed the lines laid down in the Einaudi edition,
which also provides the basis of the text used for the translation.
At the same time we have not hesitated, in the interests of clarity

xii

GRAMSCi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

of presentation, to depart from the Einaudi order wherever this
seemed to us justified on philological grounds, by reference to the
original Quaderni. We have also, where relevant (e.g. in the political
sections), appended in square brackets the date of the Quaderno
from which a text is taken. The texts that we have used are as
follows.

The essays on the Intellectuals and on Education belong together
in Gramsci's original manuscript {Quaderno XXIX, ff. 1-12). We
have translated the texts as they appear in the Einaudi volume
Gli intellettuali on pp. 3-19, 97-103 and 106-14.

The sections on Italian History and on Politics have necessitated
the most reordering, both in relation to the Einaudi edition and
to the original Quaderni. The "Notes on Italian History" in this
edition come mainly from the Einaudi volume 77 Risorgimento. One
passage, "Material for a Critical Essay on Croce's Two Histories",
is previously unpublished, and we have also integrated into the text
one passage from each of the Einaudi volumes II materialismo
storico, Note sul Machiavelli and Passato e presente.

The "Notes on Politics" were all included, with the exception of
one previously unpublished text — "Self-criticism and the Hypocrisy
of Self-criticism" — in the Einaudi volumes Note sul Machiavelli and
Passato e presente. Within the political sections however our ordering,
in terms of a rough division into two parts, on the Party and on
the State, is original. The Einaudi order here is not satisfactory,
but it is equally impossible to follow the Quaderni. The principal
source for the notes is a late Quaderno (XXX, datable to 1933-34)
in which a number of earlier texts are rewritten in a more polished
form but in an order which has no particular internal coherence.
Drafts of some of the same texts, together with notes on related
topics, are to be found in a number of other Quaderni, written
between ig2g and 1933. Short of a literal reproduction of all these
texts, or a massive critical apparatus, out of place in an edition of
this size and scope, there is clearly no alternative to a reordering
of some kind, aimed at presenting to the reader a selection of texts
which is as reasonably comprehensive and coherent as possible,
while making it clear, through the dates appended at the end of
each passage, roughly where each stands in terms of Gramsci's
original project.

The essay "Americanism and Fordism" derives from a single
Quaderno, number V, and is translated here as it appears, slightly
reordered, in the Note sul Machiavelli.

The philosophical texts have been translated, with one or two

PREFACE

xiii

minor changes, as they appear in the Einaudi volume II materialismo
storico. The essays "Some Preliminary Points of Reference" and
"Critical Notes on an Attempt at Popular Sociology" are fairly
complete in the original Quaderni. Those entitled "Problems of
Philosophy and History" and "Some Problems in the Study of the
Philosophy of Praxis" are the result of some reordering by the
Einaudi editors.

In translating our aim has been to combine the demands of a
readable English style with a respect not only for the precise content
but also for the flavour of an original which, in its fragmentary and
elliptical character and its frequent recourse to tricks to deceive the
prison censor, bears distinct traces of the difficult circumstances
under which it was written. Names of well-known Marxists and
Communists are almost always given in the Quaderni in the form of
a substitute or a circumlocution. Thus Marx is referred to as "the
founder of the philosophy of praxis", Lenin as "Ilich" or "Vilich"
[V. Ilich], Trotsky as "Leon Davidovitch" or "Bronstein" and so
on. Similarly certain identifiable concepts of Marxism Leninism
such as the class struggle or the dictatorship of the proletariat are
usually masked under innocuous sounding titles. All such names or
phrases have been left in the original form used by Gramsci, but
explained either by square brackets in the text or by a footnote. In
the case of concepts this has been done not merely in order to
preserve the feel of the original text but also to avoid imposing too
simplistic an interpretation on phrases which often have a con-
ceptual value of their own. Thus "philosophy of praxis" is both a
euphemism for Marxism and an autonomous term used by Gramsci
to define what he saw to be a central characteristic of the philosophy
of Marxism, the inseparable link it establishes between theory and
practice, thought and action.

TERMINOLOGY

Questions of censorship apart, Gramsci's terminology presents a
number of difficulties to the translator. Wherever possible we have
tried to render each term of Gramsci's with a single equivalent, as
close as possible to the original. In one particular set of cases this
has proved impossible, and that is with the group of words centred
around the verb dirigere (dirigente, direllivo, direzione, etc.). Here we
have in part followed the normal English usage dictated by the
context (e.g. direzione — leadership ; classe dirigente = ruling class)
but in certain cases we have translated dirigente and direttivo as

xiv

GRAMSCi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

"directive" in order to preserve what for Gramsci is a crucial
conceptual distinction, between power based on "domination" and
the exercise of "direction" or "hegemony". In this context it is also
worth noting that the term "hegemony" in Gramsci itself has two
faces. On the one hand it is contrasted with "domination" (and as
such bound up with the opposition State/Civil Society) and on the
other hand "hegemonic" is sometimes used as an opposite of
"corporate" or "economic-corporate" to designate an historical
phase in which a given group moves beyond a position of corporate
existence and defence of its economic position and aspires to a
position of leadership in the political and social arena. Non-
hegemonic groups or classes are also called by Gramsci "sub-
ordinate", "subaltern" or sometimes "instrumental". Here again
we have preserved Gramsci's original terminology despite the
strangeness that some of these words have in English and despite
the fact that it is difficult to discern any systematic difference in
Gramsci's usage between, for instance, subaltern and subordinate.
The Hegelian sense of the word "momento", meaning an aspect
of a situation in its concrete (not necessarily temporal) manifesta-
tions, has generally been rendered as "moment" but sometimes as
"aspect". Despite Marx's strictures (in The German Ideology) on the
abuse of this word, it occurs frequently in Gramsci in both its
senses, and confusion is made worse by the fact that Italian, unlike
German, does not distinguish the two senses of the word according
to gender. In particular cases where there seemed to us any difficulty
with a word or concept we have referred the reader to a footnote, as
also with any passage where the translation is at all uncertain. In
general we have preferred to footnote too much rather than too
little, on the assumption that readers familiar with, say, the history
of the Third International might nevertheless find useful some
explanation, however elementary, of the specialised vocabulary of
Kantian philosophy, while philosophers who know their Hegel and
Marx might be less at home in the history of the Italian Risorgi-
mento.

The translation and notes for the essays on Education and for
the writings on the Risorgimento and on politics are by Quintin
Hoare; those for the essay on the Intellectuals, for "Americanism
and Fordism" and for the philosophical sections are by Geoffrey
Nowell Smith. With the exception of the section on Gramsci's
intellectual background, the General Introduction is by Quintin
Hoare.

PREFACE

XV

NOTES

Explanatory notes by the English editors and translators have been
indicated on each page by superior numerals, Gramsci's own notes,
as contained in the originals, by asterisks.

We have preferred, for ease of reference, to place all the notes
on the pages to which they refer rather than place editors' notes
at the end of each section or at the end of the book — although this
means that occasionally an editorial note has had to be added
below one of the author's notes.

GENERAL INTRODUCTION

By the autumn of 1926, the world's first fascist regime had been
in power for four years in Italy. Its character was still very much
a matter of dispute, not least within the Italian Communist Party
and the Third International. Was it a specific, national pheno-
menon or the precursor of an international trend ? Was it a novel
socio-political formation or one that was basically just the Italian
equivalent of other, more traditional forms of reaction — such as
the Russian Black Hundreds after 1905 or the anti-labour repression
which ravaged American socialism in the early years of this century
or the Freikorps which underpinned the social-democratic govern-
ment of Noske and Scheidemann in Germany after 19 18? Did its
essence lie in its social base in the urban petty bourgeoisie and the
rural bourgeoisie, or in its role as the new, more brutal instrument
of big capital's dominion ?

These uncertainties about how fascism should be defined were
accompanied by equal uncertainty about its stability and historical
prospects. It was still widely believed by communist leaders that
the ruling class might decide that the fascist option was too costly,
and switch to a social-democratic alternative. The notion that
social-democracy was the "left wing of the bourgeoisie" had been
generally accepted, for example, by Italian communists since
Zinoviev first put it forward in 1922 (by 1924 this had become "the
left wing of fascism"). Moreover, it was true that the fascists had
not entirely suppressed bourgeois political institutions; indeed, even
communist members still sat in the fascist-dominated parliament.
And during the crisis which had followed the fascist assassination
of the social-democrat deputy Matteotti in June 1924, the regime
had genuinely appeared to totter and its backers to hesitate. But in
fact fascist power already had immensely strong foundations. It
had inaugurated a system of repression incomparably more
thoroughgoing and efficient than any previous form of reaction. By
the end of 1925 it was quite clear that any idea of the regime split-
ting in the foreseeable future under the force of its own internal
contradictions was an illusion. Throughout 1926 Mussolini had
been effectively playing at cat and mouse with the opposition
parties — at least at the legal level.

Finally, in the autumn of 1926, on the pretext of an alleged
attempt on his life, Mussolini decided to make an end of even the
semblance of bourgeois democracy that still survived. All remaining

xviii

GRAMSCI: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

opposition organisations and their publications were banned, and
a new, massive series of arrests was launched throughout the
country. Among those arrested was Antonio Gramsci. Gramsci
was a member of parliament — but the regime was no longer
interested in niceties about parliamentary immunity. He had also,
since August 1924, been the general secretary of the Communist
Party — though of course under such political conditions the
identity of party officials was kept secret. He was 35 years old. At
his trial in 1928, the official prosecutor ended his peroration with
the famous demand to the judge: "We must stop this brain working
for twenty years!" But, although Gramsci was to be dead long
before those twenty years were up, released, his health broken, only
in time to die under guard in a clinic rather than in prison, yet
for as long as his physique held out his jailers did not succeed in
stopping his brain from working. The product of those years of
slow death in prison were the 2,848 pages of handwritten notes
which he left to be smuggled out of the clinic and out of Italy
after his death, and of which this volume is a selection.

Our introduction will make no attempt to offer a general inter-
pretation of Gramsci's Prison Notebooks, but will concentrate rather
on giving a brief outline of the political and intellectual experience
which formed, inevitably, the background to and the point of
departure for Gramsci's writing during his imprisonment.

Early Life

Antonio Gramsci was born in 1891, in the small town of Ales in
Sardinia. His father came originally from Naples and had been
intended to be a lawyer. But the death of his own father, a colonel
in the Carabinieri, meant that he had to abandon his studies; he
found a job as registrar in the small Sardinian town of Ghilarza.
There he met Gramsci's mother, who was the daughter of a local
inspector of taxes and had the rare attainment, in an area of
90 per cent illiteracy, of being able to read and write. Any ambi-
tions the couple might have had for their children were rudely
dashed, however, in 1897 when the father was suspended from his
job, without pay, on suspicion of peculation. The following year
he was put under arrest and in 1900 he was sentenced to nearly
six years imprisonment. To what extent he was guilty of the
charges, which were undoubtedly motivated by his opposition to
the political party in power locally, is not very important; corrup-
tion is anyway endemic in that type of society. The essential fact
is that from 1 898 to 1 904, when her husband wasreleased fromprison

INTRODUCTION

and found a new — albeit inferior — job, Gramsci's mother was
forced to bring up her seven children, alone, with no source of
income other than her meagre earnings as a seamstress and the
proceeds from the sale of a small plot of land, in conditions of dire
poverty.

Antonio's health was an added problem. He had a malformation
of the spine, which the doctors attempted to cure by having him
suspended for long periods from a beam on the ceiling, and when
he grew up he became hunch-backed and was barely five feet tall.
He also suffered from internal disorders which brought him close
to death as a small child, and which were to recur throughout his
adult life, accompanied by severe nervous complications, and to
culminate in his death at the age of 46.

In 1898 Antonio started school at Ghilarza, but his education
was interrupted for a couple of years at the end of his elementary
schooling since none of his brothers was earning and he had to go
out to work. His father's release enabled him to return to school,
in the neighbouring town of Santulussurgiu. It was an appallingly
bad school, but nevertheless, by dint of application and the help
afforded by his literate home background, he managed in 1908
to pass the examination to enter the senior liceo in Cagliari.

When in Cagliari he lodged with his elder brother Gennaro, now
a white-collar worker and recently returned from military service
in Turin. Gennaro, whose experience on the mainland had turned
him into a socialist militant, helped to introduce Antonio to
politics, and from 1906 used to send socialist pamphlets back to his
younger brother at home. An equally formative influence was pro-
vided by the wave of social protest that swept Sardinia in the same
year, and was brutally repressed by troops from the mainland. The
form taken by the repression, both military and legal, gave a great
impetus to the cause of Sardinian nationalism, and it was to this
cause that Gramsci first adhered. Experience of the working-class
movement in Turin was to lead Gramsci to abandon his attach-
ment to nationalism as such, but he never lost the concern, imparted
to him in these early years, with peasant problems and the complex
dialectic of class and regional factors. A unique surviving essay
from his schooldays at Cagliari shows him, too, already pro-
gressing from a Sardinian to an internationalist and anti-colonialist
viewpoint, as vehement in his opposition to European imperialism
in China as in his repetition of what (he recalled in 1924) was the
favourite slogan of his schooldays: "Throw the mainlanders into
the sea!"

XX

GRAMSCi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

In 1906 mainland troops were called in to repress the Sardinian
peasantry. Later on, however, Gramsci was to discover the opposite
side of the coin — Sardinian troops being used to hold down the
workers of Turin. In general, the conflicts between industrial
"North" and rural "South" tended to obscure more basic class
questions. Since 1887, the growing industry of the North had been
favoured by protectionist policies which kept out foreign capital,
and secured its dominance of the domestic market. This protec-
tionism provided the basis of an effective community of interests
between big industrial capital and the reformist working-class
organisations — a community of interests which was fostered by the
policies of Giovanni Giolitti, the dominant bourgeois politician of
the years preceding the First World War. But its impact on agri-
cultural Italy was, with the exception of the cereal-producers in the
Centre and North, calamitous: the peasants were no longer able
to export their produce, and at the same time were forced to buy
the products of Italian industry rather than the far cheaper goods
made in the more advanced industrial countries. This was the main
basis of what became the "Southern Question". One of its conse-
quences was that the socialism which spread in the South and the
islands was not that of the P.S.I. (Socialist Party of Italy) or the
trade unions, but a kind of melange of socialist and liberal theories
which can be traced back to the ideas and activity of Carlo Pisacane
during the Risorgimento, and which was propagated most notably
by Gaetano Salvemini in the period preceding the First World
War. This "Southernism" was almost certainly Gramsci's political
position, broadly speaking, at the time of his arrival in Turin in
191 1. Salvemini in particular, an early socialist who resigned from
the party because of its reformism and indifference to rural and
Southern concerns, was to be a major intellectual influence in
Gramsci's political formation.

In 1 91 1 Gramsci, having managed to recoup the losses caused by
his indifferent and interrupted early schooling, won a scholarship
for poor students from Sardinia to the University of Turin, sitting
the examination at the same time as a future student friend and
fellow communist, Palmiro Togliatti. The scholarship grant was
miserably inadequate, and cold and malnutrition played havoc
with Gramsci's already precarious health. During 191 3-1 5 he
was desperately ill most of the time, and eventually he was forced
to abandon his studies, despite his talent, especially for philology
and linguistics generally, and despite the encouragement of several
of his teachers. However, there was a more important reason even

INTRODUCTION

xxi

than his impossible personal situation which finally decided him
to leave the university. This was the fact of his growing political
commitment.

Intellectual Formation

It was during his years at Turin University that Gramsci first
came into serious contact with the intellectual world of his time.
The deficiencies of liberal Italy had created a certain vogue for
socialist ideas even in bourgeois circles, and many of the professors
at the University had links with the socialist movement. Foremost
among these were Umberto Cosmo, a literary historian and Dante
scholar, with whom Gramsci became friends and whom he subse-
quently was to criticise for his bourgeois style of attachment to
the workers' movement, and Annibale Pastore, whose lectures on
Marxism Gramsci attended. Here he was introduced to the par-
ticular brand of Hegelianised "philosophy of praxis" to which he
remained in an ambiguous critical relationship right to the end of
his working life.

The term "philosophy of praxis", best known today in connec-
tion with Gramsci's Prison Notebooks, in which it is used partly
for ite own sake and partly as a euphemism to deceive the censor,
was introduced into Italy by Antonio Labriola, the only Italian
theoretical Marxist of any consequence before the first world war.
Labriola, who died in 1904, was a philosopher and historian who
had come round to Marxism and to participation in the socialist
movement fairly late in life, bringing with him distinct traces of a
Hegelian intellectual formation. He saw the essence of Marxism
in the unique nexus it established between theoretical and practical
activity, and maintained the unity of philosophy and history; he
distinguished himself from the Hegelian school mainly by his insis-
tence on the primacy of concrete relations over consciousness.
Labriola's ideas, particularly on the interpretation of history, were
extremely influential, but mainly in intellectual circles and often
in a distorted form which accentuated their latent idealism at the
expense of their materialist base. The phrase "philosophy of
praxis" in particular entered into the parlance of a specifically
anti-materialist tendency of which the major exponents were
Rodolfo Mondolfo and, in a marginal way, Giovanni Gentile.

Gentile's role in the development of Italian Marxism was limited
to one thing: his translation, the first into Italian, of Marx's Theses
on Feuerbach, which he interpreted idealistically as referring to the

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process of cognition rather than to the real world and man's relation
to it. Gentile's flirtation with Marxism was brief and superficial.
His theory of praxis soon degenerated into a philosophy of the
"pure act", of voluntarist and proto-fascist inspiration. He later
became a major ideologue of fascism and was executed by the
partisans during the resistance.

Mondolfo was a far more serious figure, and after Labriola's
death the leading philosopher of Italian socialism. His main con-
tribution to Marxism lay in his attempt to drive a wedge between
the "philosophical" Marx and the more empirical Engels. Mondolfo
and his school were also responsible to a large extent for the idealistic
interpretation of Labriola. The use, common to Labriola, Mondolfo
and Gramsci of the same phrase "philosophy of praxis" has led
some commentators to posit a common idealist matrix for the
three thinkers. This is a view that must be treated with caution.
In one feature Gramsci's mature thought is in accord with
Mondolfo's ideas and that is in its constant underplaying of the
materialist element in Marx's work, which, in Gramsci at least, is
replaced with a stress on "immanentism" and the elimination of
metaphysics. On the whole, however, Gramsci shows himself
critical of Mondolfo and concerned to reassert the substantial
Marxism of Labriola against both those Marxists who had criticised
him for idealism and the idealists who had tried to claim him for
their own. That Mondolfo's approach to Marxism entered into his
own culture at this early period is certain, but as Gramsci himself
was to point out, in relation to Marx, there is a distinction to be
made between the personal philosophical culture of an author —
what he has read and absorbed and maybe rejected at various
periods of his life — and his own original philosophy.

A far more important philosophical and cultural influence
imparted to Gramsci in his early years was that of Benedetto
Croce. Croce had been a pupil of Labriola and for a short period,
between 1895 and 1900, professed himself a Marxist. He soon
defected, declaring Marxism to be useful only as a "simple canon of
historical enquiry and research" and pronouncing, with charac-
teristic arrogance, "the death of theoretical Marxism in Italy"
coincidental with his own defection. Croce's influence on the whole
of Italian culture right up to the present time cannot be over-
estimated. Despite his abandonment of Marxism many of his ideas
continued to strike an echoing chord among young intellectuals of
the left in the pre-fascist period: notably his secularism and his
opposition to the previously dominant ideology of positivism.

INTRODUCTION

xxiii

Politically his role was always ambiguous. His calls for ethical
renewal had dangerous overtones, as his support for Mussolini in
the early twenties was to show. But his continued association with
the French theorist of syndicalism, Georges Sorel, helped to sustain
the illusion that his could be a philosophy for the Left.

Looking back on his student days, Gramsci was to describe
himself self-critically as having been, in his youth, "tendentially
Crocean", and many of his early articles have a distinct Crocean
ring about them. This personal, though culturally imparted,
Crocean influence on Gramsci himself must be carefully dis-
tinguished from the attitude which emerges from the Quaderni,
where Croce is considered more objectively as a philosopher and
as a dominant figure in contemporary culture. Much of Gramsci's
philosophical notebooks is devoted to a rigorous critique of Crocean
philosophy in its relation to Marxism. In his prison writings he
refers constantly to the need to combat Croceanism, both as a
diffuse ideology and as a specific philosophical system, sometimes
casting Croce in the role of a Diihring, to be polemically destroyed,
but more often seeing him as comparable to Hegel as a thinker
whose work could be profited from in the struggle to renew Marxist
thought and liberate it from positivistic accretions.

The substance of Gramsci's mature critique of Croce's philo-
sophy relates to the latter's reduction of historical movement from
a struggle of opposites to a merely conceptual dialectic, the "dialectic
of distincts". While, Gramsci contended, such a schema might have
its place in the philosophy of a society in which real conflicts had
been eliminated and where the unity of knowledge and being,
impossible in a class society, had finally been achieved, it was
unable to offer an account of the actual concrete character of a
history fundamentally determined by the class struggle. This
abstraction of real history into an ethereal realm of distinct concepts
went hand in hand, in Crocean philosophy, with a radical denial
of politics. The distinct "categories" of the Crocean system allow for
the existence of four sciences, Aesthetics, Economics, Logic and
Ethics, relating to the pursuit respectively of the Beautiful, the Useful,
the True and the Good. Politics, in this conception, can only be a
composite entity, a mere "passion", of no philosophical value. In
Gramsci's thought, by contrast, politics figures, philosophically, as
the central human activity, the means by which the single
consciousness is brought into contact with the social and natural
world in all its forms.

The critique to which Gramsci subjects Crocean idealism in the

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prison Quaderni is motivated, however, less by an abstract concern
to expose its intellectual inadequacies than by an awareness of the
need to destroy the influence which Croceanism, and Croce himself,
had on all aspects of Italian cultural and even political life. Whereas
in the period leading up to the first world war much of what Croce
said and did could be held to have a positive value — his leftish
sympathies, his revaluation of a "romantic" tradition in Italian
culture from Vico through De Sanctis up to the present, his opposi-
tion to contemporary positivism — the rise of fascism and Croce's
ambiguous attitude to it had turned his role into a pernicious and
reactionary one. Unlike Gentile, Croce did not play a direct and
active part in the elaboration of fascist cultural policy and ;ven
managed to draw intellectual credit from the fact of his abstention
from public life after 1926. But the fact remains that he did support
the regime at the outset and that the theoretical character of his
later opposition was of a singularly insipid and depoliticising kind,
whose effect on the intellectual strata subject to Crocean influence
was at best to inspire a certain withdrawal from fascist vulgarity,
but which more often promoted a habit of "justificationism"
with regard to the regime far more extensive than any provoked
by Hegel's supposed glorification of the Prussian monarchy.

The war and fascism provided a brutal litmus test for many
progressive and avant-garde intellectuals and artists beside Croce.
Among those who supported or were at least complicit with the
regime were D'Annunzio, Pirandello, Marinetti the futurist poet,
together with most of his acolytes, the meridionalist Prezzolini,
former editor of La Voce, Mario Missiroli and countless others.
Many of these had been important figures in Gramsci's cultural
formation, at a time when they had held advanced positions in the
world of Italian culture and before Gramsci's own Marxism had
matured and taken its definitive form. Not only Gramsci but the
whole Ordine Nuovo group of Communists in Turin had been
influenced by the cultural ferment of the prewar years and it is a
sign of the complexity and confusion of the Italian situation that
a group such as the Futurists, for example, whose Russian equiva-
lents, led by Mayakovsky, had played a leading role in the formation
of the Soviet avant-garde, should in Italy have degenerated into the
barrel-organs of fascism. Be that as it may the whole question of
the Italian intellectuals, their provincialism, their cosmopolitanism,
their role in the power structure of Church and State, particularly
in the South, was to become a major subject of Gramsci's reflection
in prison. His critique is never sectarian. It starts from a realistic

INTRODUCTION

XXV

assessment of the objective weakness of the Italian intelligentsia
with a view to recuperating those ideas and those forces which
could contribute to the formation of a "national -popular" con-
sciousness in association with the rising power of the proletariat.
Even Crocean idealism, despite its evident anti-popular bias, is not
totally dismissed, and those features of it which had positively
impressed Gramsci in his youth are brought out and used, even,
as an aid to the criticism of orthodox Marxism itself.

Socialist Politics in Turin

When Gramsci arrived in Turin, the city was the red capital of
Italy — Gramsci was to call it Italy's Petrograd — home of its most
advanced industry and above all of fiat. By the end of the war,
fiat was to be the biggest producer of tractors in Europe; its
workers were to increase from 4,000 in 191 3 to 20,000 in 191 8; by
1915, it was exporting armoured cars and aeroplanes to the Entente
countries in great quantities. Turin's population rose from some
400,000 in 1 91 1 (20 per cent of them industrial workers) to over
500,000 in 1 91 8 (30 per cent of them industrial workers) — and this
despite the fact that between 5 and 10 per cent of the population
was in the army and therefore not included in the 19 18 total. Of
the Turin working class, some 40 per cent was made up of women,
and these were in the vanguard of all the major proletarian
upheavals which shook the city between 191 2 and 1920.

One consequence of the specific character of Turin's capitalism
was that, unlike the other major industrial cities of the country, it
was relatively satisfied by the boom which it experienced in
1 914-15, and hence favoured the policy of neutrality advocated by
Giolitti. It was above all heavy industry — iron, steel, coal, ship-
ping — which stood to gain from war. But the cotton and wool
factories which still represented by far the greater part of Turin's
industry, and the vehicle industry which was soon destined to
outstrip these, were both so overwhelmed by orders from the
belligerent Entente countries that they saw no need for direct
intervention in the war. They had absorbed whatever unemployed
labour they could find among the recent immigrants and especially
among the women of the population, they were short of skilled
labour and were intent above all on introducing new methods of
raising productivity — the Taylorism which was to interest both
Lenin and Gramsci so much — and in maintaining industrial peace
as far as was possible.

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The latter task was a formidable one. The proletariat of Turin
was the most advanced and combative in Italy. As early as 1904-6,
it had demonstrated a high degree of solidarity and a readiness
to take to the streets. Although it suffered a series of massive defeats
in 1907, which were followed by years which saw the apogee of
Giolittian "industrial peace" and the rapid growth of a collabora-
tionist trade-union movement, nevertheless in 19 12 the metal-
workers (those not organised in unions!) embarked upon a strike
"to the end". This was defeated, after 75 days of struggle; but the
metalworkers came out again — this time led by the union, the
fiom — in the spring of 1913, and after a 93-day strike won a
considerable victory (pardy as a result of government intervention
against the employers' dangerous intransigence). These struggles
were the background to Gramsci's first years in Turin. They won
him from his youthful Southernism, demonstrating that the workers
were the real enemy of the Northern industrialists, despite the
collaborationism of their reformist leaders, and that they were thus
the potential ally and leader of the peasant masses of the South.
As war approached, and after its outbreak, the struggles of the
Turin proletariat became yet more massive, and at the same time
more political. The key stages in this trajectory were the general
strike of June 19 14, following the bloody repression of an anti-war
demonstration at Ancona; the huge anti-war demonstrations and
general strike of May 19 15; and above all the insurrection of
August 1 91 7.

When Gramsci arrived in Turin, the two dominant influences
on the younger generation of socialists were Salvemini, and
Mussolini who was the acknowledged leader of the party's left wing
and the editor of Avanti!, the party newspaper. Salvemini's impas-
sioned crusading against the indifference of the reformist working-
class leaders to the plight of the Southern peasantry has already
been discussed. He had violently opposed the imperialist expansion
into Libya in 19 12, and had been beaten up by government thugs.
His newspaper was entitled Unitd, with the implication that genuine
unity between North and South on a basis of equality remained to
be fought for; years later in 1923 Gramsci proposed the same
name for the new organ of the P.C.I. (Communist Party of Italy)
"because ... we must give special importance to the Southern
question". The influence of Mussolini was as great. An equally
harsh critic of the Libyan expedition, and of the passivity of the
reformist party officials, Mussolini wrote in the accents of Sorel,
exalting the combativity of the masses and the potentialities of the

INTRODUCTION

xxvii

general strike as a weapon in the class war. In this period he was
also a passionate opponent of all forms of militarism. His youth
and voluntarist temperament won him the admiration and loyalty
of the younger generation, which he was only to forfeit in 1 9 14 when
he became an advocate of Italian intervention during the war.

To understand the complex internal life of Italian socialism in
these years, it is essential to stress that the party itself was only one
of the forces in play: the socialist trade union federation* (C.G.L.),
the socialist deputies in parliament, the socialist local councillors,
and the powerful cooperative institutions were none of them subject
in any effective sense to party discipline. The primary concern of
the party leadership throughout the war years was to play a unitary
role in relation to these various forces; such a role could of its
nature not be a revolutionary one, even though some at least of
the party leaders were subjectively genuine revolutionaries. At the
same time, the leadership was edged steadily to the left (in words
at any rate) in response to the growing unpopularity of the war,
the increasing militancy of the industrial workers, and later to the
immense impact of the Russian revolutions. These twin, conflicting
pressures combined to create the "maximalism" (Italian equivalent
of the "centrism" which was an international phenomenon after
the war, and whose most important expression was the German
U.S.P.D.) which was to dominate the Italian Left until it was
crushed by fascism, and of which Serrati, the editor of Avanti!
after Mussolini's defection, was the most important and most
honourable expression.

In the course of the war years, a reformist Right, based primarily
on the parliamentary deputies and the trade unions and led by
Turati, Treves and d'Aragona, emerged as a coherent entity. Its
main characterising feature, especially after the catastrophic defeat
of the Italian army at Caporetto in 19 17, was its readiness to accept
patriotic slogans. The official party position was defined by the
party secretary Lazzari as "Neither support nor sabotage", and the
principal source of dissent within the movement was the argument
over whether or not support could be given to the various com-
mittees (for aid to war victims, industrial mobilisation, etc.) formed
to assist the war effort. The Right was favourable to participation
in these, but the party leadership remained true to its "abstentionist"
principles. Though positive as far as it went, this had some extremely
negative consequences for the future. For the leadership had a
"left" enough position to prevent the emergence of any effective
organised Left until well after the war, while it was in no genuine

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sense revolutionary in its practice; at the same time, it profoundly
alienated the petit-bourgeois strata — susceptible to patriotic slogans
— who were to provide the social basis for fascism. Although there
was a diffuse "Left" within the party, and this even constituted
itself briefly as an "intransigent-revolutionary" faction in mid-1917,
it overlapped to a great extent with the party leadership. It
differed from official policy mainly on issues of "principle" — in its
insistence that violence is inevitable as the midwife of revolution;
that the reformists collaborating with the committees should be
expelled; that the bourgeois notion of the "nation" should be
repudiated, etc. The faction did also advocate a more active
encouragement of mass resistance to the war, but it never elaborated
any really distinct strategy. Although the "intransigent" faction of
191 7 was in a sense the forerunner of the communist fraction of
1919-20, it was short-lived and acted as the conscience of the party
rather than as an alternative, left leadership. Many of its most
prominent members, were to become centrists rather than commu-
nists after Livorno (see below) .

At the outbreak of war, the Turin branch of the P.S.I, had some
1,000 members, of whom perhaps four-fifths were workers. This
total was quickly reduced by conscription to not more than 500,
and in the course of the war — despite the huge upsurge of revolu-
tionary consciousness among the masses — almost certainly was
further reduced by police repression, until in the last year of war
the section almost ceased to have any public existence. The section,
during the course of the war, became one of the bastions of the
intransigent wing of the party, and this was especially true of the
younger members, such as Gramsci.

Gramsci's first political associate and mentor after his arrival in
Turin was Angelo Tasca, who subsequently became the leader of
the right wing of the P.C.I, until his expulsion after the left turn
in 1929. Tasca, the son of a railway worker, born in the same year
as Gramsci, had been active in the socialist party since 1909. In
May 1912 he gave Gramsci a copy of War and Peace with theinscrip-
tion "To my fellow student of today, and my fellow militant — I
hope — of tomorrow". In November 1912 Gramsci moved to Tasca's
street, and a year later to the same building, at more or less the
same time as he joined the Socialist Party. Tasca had risen to
national prominence within the party at its 1 9 1 2 youth conference,
when he had clashed with the man who was to dominate the
P.C.I, in its first years, and subsequently to lead its left faction
until his expulsion in 1930: Amadeo Bordiga. Bordiga, the son of

INTRODUCTION

xxix

an agricultural economist, grew up in an intellectual socialist
milieu in Naples, and through his immense energy — Gramsci was to
describe him as capable of as much work as three others put
together — soon imposed himself as the leader of the intransigent
opposition to the reformist socialism which dominated the local
party organisation. Whereas the young Turin socialists, in their
reaction against the class collaborationism and passivity of the old
socialist leaders, were influenced above all by Crocean idealism and
Sorelian voluntarism, by Salvemini's Southernism, and by the
experience of the mass proletarian struggles of Italy's most advanced
industrial city, Bordiga's reaction took a different course. He
fought for a return to Marxist orthodoxy, principled, intransigent,
but also already showing the inflexibility and indeed dogmatism
which were to characterise his political career. He also fought,
however, for a national perspective for revolutionary strategy, at a
time when Gramsci was still thinking in local terms; it was this
factor above all, together with his early understanding of the role
of the revolutionary party, which ensured his dominance in the
P.C.I, at its foundation.

At the 1 9 12 youth congress mentioned above, Tasca had
demanded that Avanguardia, the youth organ of the Party, should
become the bearer of a new culture and set out to renovate the
intellectual patrimony of Italian socialism. Bordiga heaped
derision on this "culturalism" : "The need for study is what a
congress of schoolteachers proclaims — not a congress of socialists",
etc. Gramsci, years later in his Prison Notebooks, was to write of
this clash: "It is often claimed that [Bordiga's] 'economistic'
extremism was justified by [Tasca's] cultural opportunism . . . but
might it not be replied, vice versa, that the cultural opportunism
was justified by the economistic extremism ? In reality, neither one
nor the other was 'justifiable' nor should they ever be justified. They
should be 'explained' realistically as twin aspects of the same
immaturity and the same primitivism" (PP pp. 73-4). Gramsci's
achievement within the P.C.I, was to win it away from Bordiga
without delivering it to Tasca.

During these early years in Turin, Gramsci also made the
acquaintance of other future leaders of the P.C.I. — notably Togliatti
and Terracini. Since the two latter, together with Gramsci and
Tasca, formed the nucleus of collaborators responsible for the
creation of L'Ordine Nuovo in 1919, there has been a tendency to
read back their association as a group into the war years, which
was not the case. Togliatti was essentially a student friend, whose

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political activity really dated from the end of the war; when war
broke out he volunteered to serve in the medical corps. Tasca was
called up immediately in May 19 15. Terracini, who had joined
the Socialist youth organisation at the age of sixteen in 191 1, was
arrested in September igi6 for distributing and- war propaganda,
and after a month in gaol was also conscripted. Gramsci alone
spent the war years in Turin.

Gramsci's first political initiative was a blunder, and one that
was to cost him dear. In October 1914, when Mussolini began to
shift away from the official party position of neutrality in the war,
Gramsci wrote an article in the party press defending him. The
mistake was hardly surprising, given Gramsci's political inexperi-
ence; Mussolini was the unchallenged leader of the P.S.I.'s left
wing, and nobody, of course, could foresee his future trajectory.
The internationalism of Lenin was utterly unknown in Italy at the
time. Gramsci was motivated above all by scorn for the passivity
of the official party position "Neither support, nor sabotage", for
what was in effect nothing but a policy of "clean hands". He
wrote: "Revolutionaries see history as a creation of their own
spirit, as being made up of a continuous series of violent tugs at
the other forces of society — both active and passive, and they
prepare the maximum of favourable conditions for the definitive
tug (revolution); they must not be content with the provisional
slogan 'absolute neutrality', but must transform it into that of
'active, operative neutrality'." It quickly became clear, of course,
that Mussolini's perspective was a very different one, and Gramsci
did not venture into print again for over a year. Despite his
irreproachable record of opposition to the imperialist war in the
ensuing years, the accusation of "interventionism" was still to be
hurled at him years later by political opponents, on the basis of this
one article.

However, in 1915 Gramsci joined the staff of the Socialist Party
weekly II Grido del Popolo, and became a full-time journalist.
During the war years, he developed into a formidable political
commentator. He wrote on every aspect of Turin's social and
political life; on the strikes and demonstrations of the Turin
working class; on international events such as the Zimmerwald
Conference or the Armenian massacres. As the theatre critic of
Avanti!, the party daily, from 1916 on, he was one of the first to
recognise the importance of Pirandello. His influence extended far
outside the ranks of the party itself. In 19 16, Gramsci spoke in public
for the first time, addressing meetings on Romain Rolland, on the

INTRODUCTION

French Revolution, on the Paris Commune, and (taking as his cue
Ibsen's play The Doll's House) on the emancipation of women.
However, before 19 17 Gramsci did not play any very prominent
part in the life of the Turin party organisation. 1 9 1 7 was the turning-
point in his political formation: it was the year of the Russian
revolutions and of the great proletarian insurrection in Turin.

When the news of the February Revolution in Russia filtered
through, Gramsci was in no two minds about its significance,
despite the sketchiness of the censored press reports. As early as
29 April 191 7, he wrote in 77 Grido del Popolo, the party weekly:
"The bourgeois press . . . has told us how the autocracy's power
has been replaced by another power which is not yet clearly
defined and which they hope is bourgeois power. They have been
quick to establish a parallel between the Russian Revolution and
the French Revolution, and have found that the events are similar.
. . . We, however, are convinced that the Russian Revolution is
not simply an event but a proletarian act, and that it must naturally
debouch into a socialist regime." Yet Gramsci's understanding of
the true achievement of the Bolsheviks, or even knowledge of who
precisely the Bolsheviks were (see, e.g. his article "Kerensky-
Chernov" of 29/9/17), was inevitably still quite limited. Above all,
he did not yet at all realise the importance of Lenin's theory and
practice of the revolutionary, vanguard party. He responded above
all to the affirmation of proletarian will which he discerned in the
Bolshevik Revolution; after October, he wrote a famous article, of
great interest despite its all-too-evident idealist misconceptions,
entitled "The Revolution against Das Kapital". In this article he
counterposed Lenin's achievement as an affirmation of revolutionary
will against the determinism which dominated the Second Inter-
national — a determinism justified with the help of a positivist
interpretation of Marx's Capital. In his view "the Bolsheviks . . . are
not 'Marxists' . . . they have not compiled on the basis of the
Master's works an external doctrine, made up of dogmatic asser-
tions. . . . They live the thought of Marx, that which can never die,
which is the continuation of Italian and German idealist thought,
and which in Marx was contaminated by positivistic and naturalistic
incrustations". The parallel with Marx's own assertion that he was
not a "Marxist" is obvious ; Gramsci was already more of a Marxist
than he knew, but what he did, decisively, reject was the
"Marxism" which held that there was "a fatal necessity for a
bourgeoisie to be formed in Russia, for a capitalist era to open,
before the proletariat might even think of rising up, of their own

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class demands, of their revolution". In other words the "Marxism"
of the Mensheviks or of the Second International.

The impact of the Russian revolutions of 1917 was perhaps
more rapid in Turin than anywhere else in Europe. Hostility to
the war had been general in the city from the start, and had grown
in intensity as the conflict continued. The first months of 191 7 were
punctuated by numerous industrial struggles launched to counter
the effects of food shortages and rising prices; in the vanguard
were the women workers, above all in the textile factories. As soon
as the news of the February Revolution began to filter through,
the idea of "doing the same as in Russia" spread like wildfire. By
May the prefect of the city was asking the Government to proclaim
the province of Turin a "war zone". Socialist speakers urged
workers to "come to meetings in future . . . with revolvers . . ."
to use against the police, and stressed that "it is imperative not to
waste time, but to work actively for a general insurrection, get
hold of bombs . . .", etc. These fiery words were not in fact accom-
panied by any serious concrete preparation for any such course of
action on the part of the socialist leaders, but they seized the
imagination of the mass of workers in Turin, and of many workers
in the other Italian cities. A typical attitude in this period was
that of Serrati : on 8 May he was arguing at a national meeting
of the socialist leadership that they should assume responsibility for
co-ordinating the current struggles with a view to channelling
them towards a general insurrection; after his resolution was
defeated, he subsequently urged moderation on the intransigents of
Turin — in line with the priority which he was long to continue to
give to party unity.

In August 1 9 1 7, on the occasion of yet another failure of bread
supplies, the Turin proletariat rose in a spontaneous insurrection.
Barricades went up in the working-class quarters, and the centre
of the city was besieged. In so far as there was any organisation
on the insurgent side, it was provided by the anarchists. The
intransigent socialist leaders were as impotent as the reformist
deputies or trade union officials. This impotence of the socialist
leaders was to be demonstrated repeatedly during the next three
years. The insurrection lasted for four days, and machine-guns and
tanks had to be brought into the fray before the last barricades
fell. Some fifty workers were killed in the fighting, and almost one
thousand were subsequently either imprisoned or sent to the front
by order of the courts. The August events showed with dramatic
clarity both the immense revolutionary spirit of the Turin prole-

INTRODUCTION

xxxiii

tariat, and the wretched inadequacy of its political organisations.

Before the August events, Gramsci had held no important post
within the Turin party section, but when, in their wake, virtually
all the socialist leaders were arrested, he was elected to the "Provi-
sional Committee" which directed the semi-clandestine activities to
which the party was reduced in the city until the war ended. He
also became editor of 77 Grido del Popolo, which was a key position
when the press was almost the only aspect of the party's activity
which was able to continue a legal existence. His political position
was evolving in the direction of a break not merely with the
"centrist" party leadership, but also with the "purism" of the
intransigent Left. In October 191 7, a meeting was held between
the principal leaders of the intransigent faction mentioned earlier
and representatives of the party leadership, including Serrati and
Lazzari. This was followed in November by a secret conference
held in Florence, with the aim of working out a common platform
before the party's next national congress. By this time the only
major point which separated the "intransigents" and the party
centre — although it was to prove a crucial one — was their respective
views on what should be done about the reformists : the centre was
not prepared to expel them. Gramsci attended the conference as
one of the two delegates from Turin, although he was not a member
of the intransigent faction (which dominated the Turin party
organisation). The net result of the conference was a declaration of
support for the Zimmerwald and Kienthal congresses of anti-war
socialists, and a formal condemnation of the reformists, Turati and
the rest, who had compromised with social-patriotism. In this, it
was a perfect example of the "purism" of Italian maximalist
socialism, concerned above all with the preservation of principles,
and offering no concrete strategy for political action. However,
Bordiga, whose opposition to the war had from 19 14 gone beyond
the "Neither support, nor sabotage" of the leadership, and who was
of all Italian socialists during this period the nearest to Leninist
positions, made a speech which ended with the words: "It is
essential to act. The proletariat in the factories is tired. But it is
armed. We must act." Gramsci spoke in his support. The two
future leaders of the P.C.I, had met for the first time. Bordiga
already enjoyed national stature as one of the most uncompromising
of the leaders of the party's left wing for the past five years; Gramsci
was attending his first national party function. In the three years
which were to intervene between this meeting and the founding of
the Communist Party at Livorno, Gramsci was to emerge as

B

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the main theorist of the factory council movement which focused
the struggles of the most advanced section of the Italian proletariat
in Turin, and as such he was to become a national figure. But in
terms of party activity Bordiga was to be the unchallenged leader
of that Left which was to become first the communist fraction
within the P.S.I., and later the P.C.I. ; it was not until 1923 that
Gramsci began to question that supremacy. At all events the com-
bination of intransigence with an emphasis on action in Bordiga's
speech to the Florence conference must have struck a chord in
Gramsci. His political position was very different, in reality, from
Bordiga's, but they shared a total impatience with the passivity of
the party leaders. (It was incidentally at this meeting that Gramsci
was first to be accused by a maximalist speaker of "voluntarism"
and "Bergsonianism" — an accusation which was often to be
repeated by opponents in the years to come.)

In 191 8, after the war had ended, the idea that the revolution
was on the agenda was common to both sides in the class struggle,
in Italy as in most of continental Europe. But beyond the first,
tremendous revelation of October, that the socialist revolution could
be made, even in a country where the objective conditions were
apparently "not ripe", the impact was a dual one, the lessons
drawn of two kinds. Firstly, the supreme lesson for party militants
everywhere was the role played by a highly organised, disciplined
revolutionary party. In Italy, the quickest to appreciate this lesson
was Amadeo Bordiga, and it is this more than anything else that
explains his absolute dominance of the P.C.I, at its formation. But
October had a second meaning, which for the proletarian masses
was primary, and this was as the installation of Soviet power. The
idea of these new institutions of proletarian power, which could
both play a role in the revolutionary process and provide the
institutional basis for the proletarian State, swept round the world.
Germany in 19 18, of course, provides the most familiar and striking
example of this inspiration, with the largely spontaneous springing up
of workers' and soldiers' councils throughout the country. But in
Italy, too, and above all in proletarian Turin, the impact of the
Soviet model was immense. And during the next three years,
Gramsci became the theorist and propagandist of an attempt to
emulate that model in Turin. One result of this option was to delay
his understanding of the central importance of the revolutionary
party, so that he was not to play a determining role in the formation
of the P.C.I. But at the same time it meant that Gramsci was at
the centre of the main struggle of the Italian working class in the

INTRODUCTION

XXXV

post-war period — a struggle which was to furnish the new P.C.I,
with the essential of its working-class base. Moreover, Gramsci's
writings of this period retain their theoretical interest and indeed
relevance to this day.

Ordine Nwvo, the "Red 2'ears" and the Founding of the P.C.I.
The War ended in November igi8, and the two years that followed
were marked by a constant, and growing, conviction on the part of
most of the ruling class in Italy as among the mass of workers and
socialists that the revolution was inevitable, and was only a matter
of time. Yet by the time that the P.C.I, was founded in January
1 92 1, the revolutionary wave was on the ebb; the workers had been
defeated and had lost their confidence in the possibility of revolution.
Big capital, shocked by what it saw as unnecessary concessions made
by Giolitti to the working class and the socialists, was looking for
a blunter instrument. And fascist squads had started their punitive
expeditions in the autumn of 1920. The debate about whether a
revolution was really on the cards in 1919-20 can of course never
be conclusively resolved one way or the other; but what is certain
is that even if the ruling class could not go on in the old way, and
the oppressed classes were not prepared to go on in the old way,
the revolutionary vanguard party which was needed to lead the
assault on the bourgeois State did not exist until after the revolu-
tionary crisis was over.

Furthermore, the notion that the ruling class could not go on in
the old way requires careful examination. It is true that there were
no ruling-class parties to confront the mushrooming P.S.I. ; the
country was governed by makeshift coalitions of parliamentary
cliques and personal followings. It is true that the war was followed
by a catastrophic economic crisis — the lira lost 80 per cent of its
value between 191 4 and 1920; the budgetary deficit rose from
214 millions in 1914-15 to 23,345 millions in 1918-19, with the
main tax burden falling on the petite bourgeoisie; wheat production
fell from 52 million quintals in 191 1- 13 to 38 million in 1920, and
40 per cent of the balance of payments deficit was accounted for
by food imports; production dropped after the war by 40 per cent
in the engineering industries, 20 per cent in chemicals, 15 per cent
in mining, etc.; coal prices were over 16 times higher in 1920 than
they had been in 1913; etc., etc. — to which the various governments
seemed to have no solution. It is true that there was a general
feeling of impotence in the bourgeois press and among bourgeois

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politicians, in the face of the growth of industrial militancy and
the advances of the P.S.I. Yet there is another side to this picture.
Italian capitalism had been given an enormous shot in the arm by
the war, and the process of concentration of capital was proceeding
at a vertiginous pace. Between 19 15 and 191 7, the average rate of
profit in industry went up from 4-26% to 7-75%; in advanced
sectors the progress was dramatic — e.g. steel 6-3%-i6-55 %, vehicle
manufacture 8 -2 %~30- 5%. Produc:ionof iron and steel multiplied
five times in the course of the war, and firms like fiat increased their
capital tenfold. These advances did indeed have a calamitous effect
on the agricultural sector of the economy, and, by eliminating large
numbers of small firms, helped to proletarianise important petit-
bourgeois strata. Nevertheless industrial capital was in a particularly
aggressive and confident mood in the immediate post-war period.
Moreover, at least one bourgeois politician, Giolitti, had a coherent
political strategy — of restraining the more intransigent employers and
backing the reformist trade-union leaders — and, in the event, this
strategy proved extremely successful, above all in the critical month
of the factory occupations of September 1920. It would be utterly
mistaken to portray fascism as a desperate last resort of a threatened
ruling class. On the contrary, it was only after the defeat of the
working class in 1920 that the big industrialists (and Giolitti)
decided that the moment had come to replace the velvet glove by
the iron fist, and gave financial support and tacit approval respec-
tively to the fascist squads.

In order to understand the "Great Fear" of the Italian bourgeoisie
in this period, it is essential to grasp the character of the "maxi-
malism" which dominated the P.S.I. After the event, commentators
of every political persuasion were united in the view that the party
had never at any moment seriously considered the problem of how
to make the revolution, nor made any serious preparations for it.
However, at the time, the verbal statements of its leaders and the
party's adhesion to the Third International created a very different
impression. The process whereby, from 1 9 1 7 on, the party leaders
shifted their positions to the left, to converge with the "intransi-
gents", has already been mentioned. When the Third International
was founded, in March 1919, the P.S.I., although its delegates
could not get to Moscow in time for the First Congress, immediately
declared its adhesion — a decision that was ratified at the P.S.I.'s
congress in October by an overwhelming majority. At this congress,
a 65 per cent majority voted for a resolution calling for the installa-
tion of Soviets in place of the institutions of bourgeois democracy,

INTRODUCTION

xxxvii

and for a transitional regime of dictatorship of the proletariat. In
the November 19 19 general elections, the P.S.I, received almost
two million votes, and returned 156 deputies to parliament, out of
a total of 508 seats. Party membership rose from 20,000 at the end
of the war to 87,000 in 1919, 180,000 in 1920; membership of the
C.G.L. rose in the same period from 250,000 to two million. But
despite its revolutionary language, the P.S.I, neither organised
itself for insurrection, nor sought allies, for the industrial proletariat
(four million strong at this time) among the peasants or agricultural
labourers (each of whom represented a further four millions,
approximately). Although the peasants were occupying feudal
estates in the South throughout the revolutionary years, the party
made no attempt to co-ordinate their struggles. It allowed the
catholic Popular Party to organise the mass of small peasants in
North and Central Italy. And it neither carried out any serious
work in the army, nor organised the proletariat militarily. Finally,
it alienated the urban petite bourgeoisie and the demobilised
officers and failed to channel their resentments (caused by their
critical economic and social position) against the ruling class.

In April 191 9, Gramsci, Tasca, Togliatti and Terracini took the
decision to found a weekly "review of socialist culture". Gramsci, a
year later, when the Online Nuovo had become something very
different, wrote critically of their original intentions: "When, in
April 19 1 9, three, or four, or five of us decided to begin publishing
this review Ordine Nuovo, none of us (perhaps) had any thought of
changing the face of the world or of opening a new historical era.
None of us (perhaps : some had fantasies of 6,000 subscribers in a
few months) had any rosy illusions about the possible success of
the project. Who were we? What did we represent? What slogan
did we have to offer? Alas! The only sentiment which united us,
in our meetings of that period, was based on a vague enthusiasm
for a vague proletarian culture; we wanted to act, to act, to act,
we felt trapped, without perspective, amid the feverish life of those
months following the armistice, when the cataclysm of Italian
society seemed imminent." These words were written in polemical
vein, against Angelo Tasca; for from June 19 19 on, Gramsci,
supported by Togliatti and Terracini, had found the "slogan"
which was to characterise Ordine Nuovo, i.e. the idea of the Factory
Councils as the Italian equivalent of the Soviets, and had met a
growing dissent from Tasca. Nevertheless, it is certainly true that
neither Gramsci nor the others could have had any idea in April
191 9 either of the course that the proletarian struggles would take

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GRAMS CI I PRISON NOTEBOOKS

in Turin or of the influence that their modest journal would come
to wield among the workers of the city.

At all events, less than a month after the appearance of the first
number Gramsci was already writing: "The history of the class
struggle has entered a decisive phase after the concrete experience
of Russia : the international revolution has acquired form and body
since the Russian proletariat invented (in the Bergsonian sense) the
State of the Councils, digging into its experience as an exploited
class, extending to the entire collectivity a system and order which
synthesises the proletarian form of economic life organised in the
factories around the shop committees, and the form of its political
life organised in the neighbourhood associations, in the town and
village sections, in the provincial and regional federations in which
the Socialist Party is articulated." And by June the idea that the
shop committees (commission interne) were the potential nucleus for
factory councils, which would be the first stage in the creation of
Italian "soviets", was expressed by Gramsci in an Ordine Nuovo
editorial "Democrazia Operaia" inunambiguous terms. This thematic
became the hallmark of Ordine Nuovo and of the group which
coalesced around it. During the succeeding eighteen months the
journal became the ideological motor of a proletarian struggle in
Turin which was not merely the most advanced of those revolu-
tionary years in Italy, but which persuaded the leaders of the Third
International that a proletarian revolution was imminent. Although
its circulation was only about 3,000 copies in 19 19, and averaged
at most 5,000 in 1920, it nevertheless was a genuine "organiser"
in the Leninist sense, and both played an essential part in the
organisation of factory councils in all the factories of any size in
Turin and also provided the P.C.I, with the major part of its
working-class base.

This is not the place for an analysis of the theoretical position
worked out in the pages of the weekly Ordine Nuovo in the twenty
months of its existence. Its main features, however, and also its
main weaknesses must be indicated briefly, for an appreciation of
its relation to Gramsci's mature thought. The idea of "Soviets" was
common currency on the Italian Left in this period, from the
reformists at one extreme to Bordiga, whose journal in Naples was
entitled 77 Soviet, at the other. But Ordine Nuovo distinguished itself
from the rest of the Left in four important ways. First, and most
important, it related its theories directly to the practice of the
Turin working class; it had a programme for the realisation of a
soviet system, and fought for that programme. By the summer of

INTRODUCTION

xxxix

1920, there were councils in all the main factories of the city.
Secondly, the new institutions were to be completely independent
of the traditional working-class organisations; they were to be
institutions of the whole proletariat, including non-organised workers,
anarchists, etc. This conception was bitterly attacked by all sectors
of the Italian Left, and was the real cause of Tasca's dissent. For
Gramsci's conception saw the councils as the institutions whereby
the dictatorship of the proletariat would be exercised, institutions
which stood towards the "voluntary", "private" associations such as
the party and the trade union in a relation of "State" to "govern-
ment". This apparent subordination of the traditional working-class
organisations was a source of scandal to the Left as a whole, for
whom Serrati certainly spoke when he asserted that "the dictator-
ship of the proletariat is the conscious dictatorship of the Socialist
Party".

In the third place, Ordine Nuovo saw the factory councils and
the territorial Soviets which would subsequently be based on them
as the embryos of the future socialist state. And fourthly it
claimed that: "The real development of the revolutionary process
occurs below the surface, in the obscurity of the factory and in the
obscurity of the consciousness of the numberless masses whom
capitalism subjects to its laws"; "the revolution is proletarian and
communist only in so far as it is a liberation of productive and
proletarian forces"; "we, as Marxists, must strive to grasp the
terms of the problem of power in the productive organism".

These ideas were attacked particularly sharply by Bordiga, as a
form of gradualism. "This, call it reformism or syndicalism, is
defined by the erroneous view that the proletariat can emancipate
itself by winning ground in economic relations, while capitalism
still holds political power through its control of the State." Bordiga
was not wrong to point out syndicalist tendencies in Gramsci's
thought at this time. The ideas developed in the pages of Ordine
Nuovo were deeply influenced both by Daniel de Leon, the theorist
of the Wobblies, and by the British shop stewards' movement.
Moreover, Gramsci certainly underestimated the role of the State,
and hence had not grasped the role of the revolutionary party in
organising the seizure of power. But at the same time, it is something
of a paradox that Bordiga, who so early appreciated the implica-
tions of the Bolshevik revolution, and who was aware two years
before Gramsci of the need to break organisationally with the
socialism of the Second International, should have so little under-
stood the need to break with that Second International socialism

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GRAMSCi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

ideologically as well, and should have continued to share its rigidly
mechanical conception of the relationship between party and masses.

For the Ordine Nuovo group's immense merit was its grasp of the
role of the masses, and their spontaneous action, in the revolutionary
process. Oddly, in view of the accusation of "voluntarism" which
was so often to be hurled at them in these years, they were the only
Italian Marxists to attempt to pose the problem of revolution in
non-voluntarist terms. Gramsci, in November 19 19, wrote: "Even
if a revolutionary minority succeeded in seizing power violently,
that minority would be overthrown the next day by the backlash
of capitalism's mercenary forces . . . the communist revolution is a
necessity in Italy more for international reasons than for reasons
inherent to the process of development of the national productive
apparatus . . . The revolution finds the great popular masses of
Italy still amorphous, still fragmented. . . ." In Gramsci's view, it
was only through the creation of organisms capable of uniting the
masses and channelling their spontaneity, that the revolution could
command majority assent and hence overcome definitively the
power of the capitalist State.

However, it was not until the spring of 1920, on the eve of the
great Turin metalworkers' strike, that Gramsci began to pose
correctly the relation between mass institutions and the revolutionary
party. He then wrote an article — destined, to the horror of the P.S.I,
delegates, to be described by Lenin as "fully in keeping with the
fundamental principles of the Third International" — entitled "For
a Renewal of the Socialist Party", in which he said, notably: "The
existence of a cohesive and strongly disciplined Communist Party
which, through its factory, trade-union and co-operative nuclei,
co-ordinates and centralises within its own executive committee all
of the proletariat's revolutionary activity, is the fundamental and
indispensable condition for attempting any Soviet experiment."
But by this time, as Gramsci was to recognise with bitter self-
criticism in subsequent years, the task of national co-ordination of
the proletariat's revolutionary activity had been left too late. The
April metalworkers' strike was in fact the high point of revolutionary
mass struggle in the postwar years; and it was only after its defeat
that the Ordine Nuovo group attempted to sink its theoretical
differences with Bordiga, in order to participate in the process of
creating an Italian Communist Party. It was only after the defeat of
the factory occupations in September, i.e. after the effective end of
the period of postwar revolutionary upsurge, that the Party was in
fact formed — on Bordiga's terms.

INTRODUCTION

Xli

The April strike was provoked by the employers. Their objective
was explicitly the ending of "dual power" in the factories, i.e. the
destruction or emasculation of the commissioni interne. That they
succeeded, despite a month's strike by the metalworkers, ten days
of general strike throughout Turin and the province of Piedmont,
and the organisation of an urban Soviet defended by armed
workers, was due not to the huge armed force which was concen-
trated in the city — "an army of police . . . cannon and machine-
guns at all strategic points" as Gramsci described it — but to the
failure of the Turin comrades to secure the support of the party or
trade unions nationally, and to draw in workers outside Piedmont.
Their failure to organise earlier on a national scale now caught up
with them, and Turin stood alone. Avanti! refused to print the
manifesto put out by the Turin section of the party, calling for the
solidarity of workers in the rest of the country. The party executive
moved its National Council meeting from Turin to Milan during
the strike. Ordine Nuovo's appeals for an urgent tabling of the
question of insurrection were ignored. And although the result of
the strike — a compromise limiting the power of the commissioni
interne — was not seen immediately in Turin as a decisive turning-
point, it was nonetheless the moment at which the proletarian
advance of the postwar period was checked.

The summer of 1920 was a critical period for the Ordine Nuovo
group. In May Bordiga, who had begun to organise a national
communist fraction in the previous autumn, called a meeting in
Florence of the various left groups within the Socialist Party. His
own fraction called itself the "abstentionist" fraction, andhadalready
made electoral abstentionism the basic differentiating feature of
its positions. The Third International, which had been counselling
restraint, since it hoped that the communists would carry a majority
in the P.S.I., sent a representative; Gramsci attended as an observer.
Gramsci proposed, on behalf of the Turin comrades not already
members of Bordiga's abstentionist fraction, that a national com-
munist fraction should be formed on a non-abstentionist platform,
in line with Comintern recommendations. This was rejected, and
Gramsci returned to Turin isolated. The unity of the Ordine Nwvo
group was lost in these months. Tasca's dissent from the entire
factory council thematic as developed by Gramsci came into the
open, and he urged a turn back towards the traditional working-
class organisations. Terracini and Togliatti drew nearer to the
maximalists who dominated the Turin section of the P.S.I., and
the former was co-opted into the party leadership; they did not

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GRAMSCI: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

follow Gramsci in his moves towards Bordiga, but formed their own
"electionist" faction as a rival to the "abstentionists". Gramsci
spent the following months promoting communist education groups
in the factories; he later described Togliatti and Terracini as having
"rejoined Tasca" in this period. Ordine Nuovo was no more able to
organise nationally after the April moment of truth than it had been
before.

In July 1920, the Comintern held its Second Congress. The
Italian delegates ranged from Bordiga to the reformist trade-union
leader d'Aragona; all were received warmly, especially Serrati, who
had known Lenin since the Zimmerwald Congress. However,
despite the illusions undoubtedly harboured on the revolutionary
character of the P.S.I. — illusions which were to persist for at least
another three years, and which were to be an important cause of
the P.C.I.'s long resistance to the United Front policy — nevertheless,
criticisms of Serrati's reluctance to expel the reformists were already
beginning to be voiced. The Italian delegates learnt with surprise
and dismay of Lenin's approval of the Ordine Nuovo positions. The
two main programmatic bases of the Congress were the 2 1 points —
which were to prove unacceptable to Serrati — and Lenin's Left-
wing Communism, an Infantile Disorder — which was directed against
Bordiga, among others. But it would be quite incorrect to present
the "right" and "left" deviations on the same plane. The Congress
was held at a moment of huge confidence in the revolutionary
prospects. The International's support was growing at immense
speed. The Red Army was advancing towards Warsaw. It was the
immediacy of the task of making the revolution which made it so
essential to expel the reformists and to forge communist parties
adequate to that task. Right-wing opportunism was the enemy —
left-wing communism merely an infantile disorder to be outgrown.
Bordiga abandoned abstentionism after the Congress vote; Serrati,
however, was adamant in bis refusal either to change the name of
the P.S.I, or to expel the reformists. Bordiga came away from the
Congress determined not only to create the P.C.I, as soon as
possible, but to exclude from it all "centrists". The real gulf between
him and the International was not on the comparatively unim-
portant issue (given the revolutionary perspectives of the period)
of abstentionism, but on the far more essential question of whether
it was necessary to win the majority of the working class. Bordiga's
position was then, and always remained, an utterly rigid one; the
party should be pure and hard, and if it followed the correct
policies then the mass of the working class would of course follow

INTRODUCTION

xliii

its lead. The idea of trying to win the majority of the P.S.I, was
of no interest to him, since he was already convinced of their
irrevocable "centrism". On the other hand, he was equally
opposed to mass movements, such as the Turin factory councils,
which were not strictly controlled by the party. Ultimately his line
resulted in an almost complete immobilism.

However, Bordiga's supremacy among the communists in the
P.S.I, was total. He had been the most intransigent of the left
leaders, and by a long way the first to organise on a national level.
His implacable anti-centrism was shared by all the Left, especially
the youth organisation, who were so impatient to have done with
the P.S.I, that they could not be restrained from setting up an
autonomous communist youth section on their own in August 1920.
It was precisely because Gramsci's anti-centrism was as implacable
as Bordiga's own that he took so long to face up to the consequences
of his dissent from other aspects of Bordiga's leadership. Indeed,
he never clearly distanced himself from Bordiga's position on the
United Front strategy at all, at least until after his arrest, and then
only in part. Yet differences with Bordiga there certainly were,
from the very beginning. For Gramsci was to say (in 1923) of the
way in which the P.C.I, was formed, i.e. of the failure to win the
majority of the socialist workers to the new party, that this was
"without a doubt reaction's greatest triumph": not an opinion
shared by Bordiga. At all events, this summer of 1920 was the
moment when Ordine Nuovo lost its unity and momentarily its sense
of direction, and when Bordiga's supremacy among Italian com-
munists was decisively consolidated.

In September 1920, as the Italian delegates were returning from
the Comintern Congress, the occupation of the factories broke out
in Milan, and quickly spread throughout the country. As Gramsci
was to stress subsequently, this confrontation was one chosen by
the employers, however impressive the proletarian response may
have been. Upon the threat of a lockout, workers at the Romeo
plant occupied the factory. The unions encouraged the spread of
this tactic to other factories, as a defensive move in the industrial
struggle. But the movement soon assumed a scale and character
which far exceeded anybody's expectations, the unions' most of all.
It was now that the real impact of Ordine Nuovo's ideas and agitation
made itself felt. Factory councils sprang up everywhere, not merely
in Turin, and not merely in the engineering industry. In many
places, and notably at Turin, production continued. "Where possible,
the workers armed the factories, expecting a counter-blow from

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the State. But although the movement was by far the greatest in
scale of all the working-class struggles of this revolutionary period
in Italy, the balance was heavily weighted against the workers. The
trade unions were from the start looking for a compromise solution.
When, for tactical reasons, the reformist trade-union leaders
challenged the P.S.I, leadership to make good their revolutionary
words, offering their resignations if the P.S.I, wished to assume
leadership of the unions directly and to organise an insurrection,
the P.S.I, leaders at once refused. They, too, were anxious to find
a way out of the situation, which was outside their control. They
asked the Turin representatives (who included Terracini, as well
as maximalists who would join the P.C.I, at its founding congress
at Livorno like Gennari) whether the Turin proletariat was pre-
pared to take the lead in an insurrectionary bid for power. But
the Turin representatives, quite apart from their suspicions — only
too justified in view of the events of April — that they were being
cast in the role of sacrificial lambs, knew very well that the arms
and military preparation even of the workers of Italy's "Petrograd"
were totally inadequate for such an enterprise. The Ordine Nuovo
might have implanted an idea that had caught the imagination of
the masses; the intransigents and Bordiga's abstentionist fraction
might have defined an attitude which rejected all compromises; but
not even these forces — and how much less the mass organisations,
the Party and the trade unions — had made any serious attempt to
organise the proletariat, on a national scale, for a revolutionary
assault on the capitalist State. All Giolitti, who had become Prime
Minister again in June, had to do was to restrain the more hot-
headed employers who would have liked the troops sent in — an
action which might have provoked precisely the immense mass
reaction which alone could have escalated the confrontation to a
struggle for state power — and to wait until the workers had fully
realised that their leaders' revolutionary words were empty rhetoric.
Then, there was no difficulty in reaching a compromise, by means
of an offer of industrial co-partnership which was to be echoed
with equal success by another threatened bourgeois politician
forty-eight years later in France. Even the term "participation"
used so skilfully by De Gaulle in 1968 was used before him by
Giolitti, although the latter also spoke of "trade-union control".
At all events, the bait was sufficient for the reformist leadership of
the C.G.L., which was only waiting to be hooked and brought
to land; a compromise was reached, and the factory occupations
were called off. The Ordine Nuovo group, whose thematic had been

INTRODUCTION

xlv

translated into revolutionary practice by the working class of all
Italy, were entirely impotent at the national-organisational level;
matters were decided between Giolitti and the C.G.L., and the
revolutionary phase of postwar Italy was effectively brought to a close.

For despite Giolitti's success, the employers were in no mood to
be satisfied with the compromise he had achieved. Many of them
saw the notional "control" which he was prepared to grant the
unions as a mortal threat to their positions of power. It was in the
autumn of 1920 that fascist squads began to carry out raids on
behalf of the landowners of North and Central Italy against both
the socialist and Catholic peasant associations, and against socialist-
controlled municipalities such as that of Bologna or socialist papers
such as the Trieste daily II Lavoratore. And it was also during this
period that a number of industrialists began to pour funds into
Mussolini's organisation. In all probability Giolitti too was a
source of fi nance for the fascists in this period. At all events Bonomi,
Giolitti's ex-socialist Minister of War, in October 1 920 sent out a
circular giving effective encouragement to demobilised officers to
join the Fasci. And the entire early development of fascism from
the marginal phenomenon of 19 19 to the mass phenomenon of 1920
was assisted by massive State connivance. -

During this same period, the communist fraction within the P.S.I,
assumed public form and prepared for the party's January 1921
National Conference at Livorno. Communist sections were formed
throughout the country. The failure of the occupation of the
factories had demonstrated what the communists had been saying
for months, that the centrist leaders of the P.S.I, could not make
the revolution; it gave a real urgency to the recommendations con-
tained in the International's 2 1 points. The International appears
to have believed during this period that the communists would carry
the majority of the P.S.I. ; Gramsci may have shared this illusion.
But Gramsci did not share the International's limited view of the
objectives to be pursued vis-a-vis the centrist leaders. For while the
International was merely concerned to secure an acceptance of its
discipline and the twenty-one points, Gramsci, like Bordiga, sought
an emphatic rejection of the entire past of Italian socialism — seen
as responsible for the defeats of the last two years. Togliatti was
to describe the intensity of this rejection: "The Livorno split was
essentially, and predominantly, an act of struggle against centrism.
. . . We fought root and branch against Turati and Modigliani
[the reformists], but as for Serrati, we hated him . . . The main
obstacle was not the reformists but maximalist centrism." It was

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an attitude which was at the root of the Italian party's long resis-
tance to Comintern directives.

In the manifesto of the communist fraction which was published
on 15 October 1920 in Milan, over the signatures of Bordiga,
Gramsci, Terracini and others, Bordiga's supremacy was obvious.
The entire Ordine Nuovo thematic was absent, as was any reference
to the relation between party and masses, to soviet democracy, to
organisation in the factories, etc. The emphasis was on discipline
and centralism, and on purity of principles. There were undoubted
differences of perspective between the various components of the
future P.C.I. Quite apart from the ideas developed in Ordine Nuovo,
which Gramsci had certainly not abandoned wholesale as subse-
quent events were to show, there was a clear difference of perspective
with respect to the overall political prospects. Whereas Bordiga dis-
missed the signifi cance of fascism, believing that a social-democratic
"solution" was the most likely for the ruling class to adopt, Gramsci
had as early as April 1920 written that the two possibilities were
black reaction or proletarian revolution (though he too was to
waver in this view in the coming years, and to speak on frequent
occasions of the probability of a social-democratic solution). But
both shared a conviction that revolution was still very much on
the immediate agenda; and Gramsci was at this time convinced,
too, that the only possible way in which the communist party
could be formed was on Bordiga's terms.

At all events, the communist delegates went to Livorno with
58,783 votes, compared so the Centre's 98,028 and the reformists'
14,695. The first communist to speak, Secondino Tranquilli (subse-
quently known as Ignazio Silone) the editor of the youth paper,
asked the communist delegates to "burn the effigy of unity". They
left the conference singing the Internationale, and held their own
founding congress in a neighbouring hall. The Central Committee
elected had six abstentionist members, two Ordine Nuovo (Gramsci
and Terracini), and seven ex-maximalists; but Bordiga was in fact
more entirely dominant than these numbers would suggest, since
he quickly won over the entire C.C. to his views, with the sole
partial exception of Gramsci, who was thus totally isolated. It was
to be three years before he would fi nd the political confidence, and
establish the autonomous political positions, which would permit
him to challenge Bordiga's leadership of the new party.

The P.C.I, under Bordiga 1 921 -192 3

At the time of the Livorno Congress and the foundation of the

INTRODUCTION

xlvii

P.C.I., Gramsci was not yet thirty. He had less than four years of
serious political activity behind him. The three years that followed —
years which saw the consolidation of fascist power in Italy, the
reflux of the revolution internationally, the beginnings of the
struggle for power within the Russian party, and a growing rift
between the Italian party and the Third International — represent
a period of uncertainty and indeed at times anguish in Gramsci's
political career. Until all his work for the years between 1922 and
1926 has been published, and until more is known about his life
and activity in Moscow (May 1922-November 1923) and in Vienna
(December ig23-May 1924), it will not be possible to reconstruct
fully his political biography for these crucial years. Hopefully, by
the time that the introduction to an English selection of Gramsci's
early writings comes to be written, many of the existing gaps will
have been filled. At all events, we have limited our objectives here
to giving an extremely schematic indication of the complex historical
context within which Gramsci's political activity was inserted — in
terms of three main, interrelated determinants: international
developments and the united front; Italian developments and
fascism ; the struggle against Bordiga and Tasca inside the party.

For most historians writing with the hindsight of today, the
period of possible revolution in the West in the wake of the First
World War and the October Revolution was a brief one, over
effectively by 1921 at the latest. This is no place to discuss the
correctness of this estimate. What must, however, be stressed is that
this was by no means the view of communists throughout the early
twenties, despite all the setbacks and defeats. The notion that the
proletarian revolution was no longer on the immediate agenda was
the hallmark of the social-democrats, and was fiercely rejected by
all currents within the Third International.

The response of the Comintern to what were, at that time, seen
as temporary ebbings of the revolutionary tide was, fundamentally,
the united front policy. This characterised Comintern strategy,
despite fluctuations in interpretation, at least until 1925-6. Its
basic idea was that the communists, now that they had expelled,
or split from, the reformists, should seek to engage the latter
in forms of common action; only thus could they win a majority
in the working class — which has a fundamental interest in unity,
whether in defensive or in offensive action. As Lenin put it: "The
purpose and sense of the tactics of the united front consist in drawing
more and more masses of the workers into the struggle against
capital, even if it means making repeated offers to the leaders of

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the II and 11^ Internationals to wage this struggle together. When
the majority of the workers have already established their class, i.e.
their Soviet, and not 'general national' (i.e. in common with the
bourgeoisie) representation, and have overthrown the political
domination of the bourgeoisie, then the tactics of the united front,
of course, cannot require co-operation with parties such as that of
the Mensheviks and the S.R.s, for these have turned out to be
opponents of Soviet power"; and again: "If there are still people
at the enlarged meeting of the Executive who have not grasped the
fact that the tactic of the united front will help us to overthrow the
leaders of the II and 11^ Internationals, these people should have
an extra number of popular lectures and talks read to them"
{Collected Works, Vol. 42, pp. 411 and 401). The slogan "To the
masses" which was launched at the Third World Congress in 192 1
was a recognition that in most cases (there were exceptions like
Bulgaria) the communist parties were not yet followed by the
majority of workers, and that only when they were would revolution
be attainable.

This eminently dialectical tactic required an unremitting struggle
against left and right deviations in the interpretation of it, and
ultimately broke down in the "right" and "left" zigzags of 1927-8
and 1929-34. On the one hand, a number of parties, among them
the P.C.I., had the greatest reluctance in accepting the hated
centrists as in any sense potential allies — even if the object was
partly to discredit them. They rejected the idea that it was necessary
to win the majority of the working class. The entire history of the
P.C.I, between 1921 and 1924 was characterised by a series of
disagreements with the Comintern which all turned on this point.
The most that the Italian communists — and here Gramsci or
Togliatti did not differ from Bordiga — were prepared to accept was
what they termed the united front "from below"; but clearly this
was tantamount to a rejection of the tactic, since the only reason
for it at all was the impossibility as yet of establishing direct contact
with the majority of the working class or of by-passing their
reformist or centrist leaders.

On the other hand, in those years of revolutionary reflux, there
was immensely strong pressure to accept, even without necessarily
being conscious of so doing, the reformists' abandonment of all
revolutionary perspective. This "liquidationist" danger was an
ever-present reality in the minds of communists like Bordiga or
Gramsci, who saw the Comintern continually placing what they
regarded as false hopes in the P.S.I, and negotiating with its leaders

INTRODUCTION

xlix

directly, and who were only too aware that the main supporter of
the united front inside the Italian party was precisely Tasca, whom
they suspected of not sharing their implacable spirit of rupture with
the entire tradition of Italian socialism. Togliatti expressed such
fears, for example, when at a 1923 Central Committee meeting he
spoke of the Comintern's directive to pursue a policy of fusion with
the P.S.I, after the latter's expulsion of the reformists. He said:
"The greatest risk was and still is that, under the cover of the fusion
policy, there will be a growth of tendencies which cannot be called
anything else but 'liquidatory' of the communist party and move-
ment; that what I termed above our first and most important
achievement in the consciousness of the Italian masses will be for-
gotten"; the achievement in question was "the demonstration of
the necessity for every future political development of the Italian
proletariat to take place on bases radically different from those that
have been traditional in the socialist movement".

The roots of the schism between the new P.C.I, and the Comintern
go back, of course, well before the united front policy was pro-
claimed in December 1921. Lenin had sharply condemned
Bordiga's abstentionism in 1920. In the summer of 1921, the
International had been highly critical of the P.C.I.'s attitude to
the arditi delpopolo (see note 25 on p. 230 below). At the Third World
Congress in June, the Italian party had aligned itself with the new
leadership of the German party in support of the "theory of the
offensive" (formulated notably by Bela Kun) ; that theory was the
object of harsh criticism from Trotsky in his keynote report to the
Congress, and when Terracini, the P.C.I, spokesman, defended it
he found himself at the receiving end of one of Lenin's most
devastating polemical broadsides. Terracini had invoked the posi-
tions of the previous World Congress in support of the P.C.I.'s
views, but the year which separated the two Congresses had seen
the proclamation of N.E.P., a swift growth of Italian fascism, and
the failure of the "March Action" in Germany; Zinoviev, at the
end of March and under pressure from Lenin, had written an
article speaking of the slow-down of the revolutionary tempo. Despite
the arguments of the important German and Italian parties for
the theory of the offensive, the Congress was marked by a new de-
termination to win the majority of the working class and launched
the slogan "to the masses" — in an adumbration of the united front.
Moreover, it was at this time that a major disagreement about
policy inside Italy came to the fore — a disagreement that was to
last until the popular front period in the thirties. This concerned

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GRAMSGI: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

the attitude to be taken up towards the P.S.I. Already in this
summer of 1921, the P.C.I, leaders were deeply suspicious of the
hopes placed by the International in the P.S.I.; the latter had not
yet expelled the reformists, but the International generally believed
that they would and that the P.C.I, should then fuse with them,
while the P.C.I, leaders were utterly opposed to any such perspec-
tive, even if the reformists were to be expelled.

In December 1921, the united front policy was formally launched
by the Comintern Executive; it meant common action between
the rival Internationals, between rival left parties, and in the trade-
union field. The Italian party was resolutely opposed to it, and was
at the most prepared to accept a limited application of it in the
trade-union field. Togliatti, in the same Central Committee meeting
of 1923 quoted above, went on to say: ". . . it was obvious that, so
shortly after our formation as an autonomous party, we were
resistant to any tactical shift which might . . . cause the mass of
the party and of the proletariat to forget what for us was the first,
solidly won position . . . Hence our reservations about an immediate
application by us of the united front in the political field . . .".
In the Enlarged Executive meeting of February /March 1922,
Terracini again attacked the entire new policy, and was rebuked
by Lunacharsky, Radek, Trotsky and Zinoviev in turn.

The disagreement continued throughout 1922. In March, the
P.C.I, held its second Congress at Rome. The Congress theses (see
note 1 03 on p. 200 below), whose main section on tactics was drafted
by Bordiga and Terracini, were attacked by Trotsky and Radck on
behalf of the Comintern Executive, and again by Kolarov the
Comintern representative at the Congress itself. Kolarov was
answered not only by Bordiga and Terracini, but also by Gramsci —
who argued that the P.S.I, with whom the Comintern wished the
communists to fuse was fundamentally a peasant rather than a
proletarian party! Kolarov's intervention was of critical importance
for future developments in the party, since it stimulated the
emergence of a right-wing opposition group headed by Tasca, who
stood for a full application of the united front policy. However, for
the moment the Bordigan executive was reconfirmed by the congress
as a united bloc; the right minority was not represented in the
party's leading bodies; and Gramsci was sent to Moscow as the
P.C.I, representative to the Comintern Executive.

In the remainder of the year the rift between the Italian party
and the Comintern widened yet further. Zinoviev attacked the
Italians violently for not participating in the Alleanza del Lavoro — a

INTRODUCTION

li

front of trade unions, formed on the initiative of the anarcho-
syndicalist railwaymen's union and to which the C.G.L. gave its
support. On the other hand, the P.C.I, was bitterly critical of
Zinoviev's negotiations with the P.S.I., which in October expelled
the reformists and affirmed its adhesion to the Third International.
At the Fourth World Congress in November, substantial differences
were evident on the nature of fascism, on the slogan of "workers'
governments", and above all on the issue of fusion with the P.S.I.

With respect to fascism, Zinoviev in his opening address tended
to dismiss it as a transitory phenomenon. He concentrated his fire
on the social-democrats — whom he now defined as the "left wing
of the bourgeoisie". Radek's report on the capitalist offensive,
however, was in marked contrast — and may very well have been
influenced by Gramsci. It stressed the petit-bourgeois components
of fascism, the sectarianism shown by the proletarian organisations
towards the ex-combatants, and the aid of the big bourgeoisie in
fascism's rise to power — while reiterating that the fundamental class
contradiction remained that between bourgeoisie and proletariat.
This complex analysis was in sharp contrast to that of Bordiga, who
in the main report to the Congress on fascism refused any distinction
between the general capitalist counter-offensive and fascism, and
spoke of the latter's convergence with social-democracy, describing
fascism as a great unity movement of the dominant class. He stated
that "fascism has introduced no novel elements into traditional
bourgeois politics or ideology". The Congress as a whole tended to
accept Radek's view of the danger of Italian fascism, almost certainly
inspired by Gramsci; but ironically enough Gramsci himself- — who
had foreseen the possibility of fascist victory in Italy so early and had
developed the essential elements of an adequate analysis of the
new phenomenon — was to oscillate over the ensuring years in his
analysis. Bordiga characteristically remained unswervingly loyal to
his univocal view, but Gramsci like the rest of the P.C.I, leaders
was to show continuing uncertainty, stressing now the petit-
bourgeois origins of fascism, now its internal contradictions, now
its agrarian component, now the predominance of finance capital,
and now its function as an expression of the entire ruling class.
To some extent it was Tasca who was most consistently to develop
Gramsci's early intuitions in the next years, and who was to be
most consistent in his emphasis on the specificity of fascism, while
Gramsci was still not free of Bordiga's influence.

The Italians also differed sharply from the majority of the Fourth
Congress on the issue of "workers' governments" — a slogan con-

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GRAMSGi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

ceived by Zinoviev, and attacked violently by Bordiga. The slogan
was indeed more than a little ambiguous, and was to be interpreted
in widely divergent ways in the coming years, not least by Zinoviev
himself. But the real bone of contention was the issue of fusion
with the P.S.I., which was the subject of prolonged discussion.
Gramsci, Bordiga and the other delegates belonging to the majority
were obdurate in their resistance to the Comintern pressure. Tasca,
on the other hand, was strongly in favour of the fusion proposals.
In the course of the discussion, Trotsky seems to have made an
attempt to persuade Gramsci to differentiate himself from Bordiga,
asking whether each individual Italian delegate was free to vote as
he wished; when this produced no result, Trotsky launched a
bitter attack on the Italian positions: "This is the ne plus ultra of
disagreement between the P.C.I, and the communist international —
anything further would mean open rupture . . . Gramsci is demand-
ing a privilege of intransigence for Italy. On the question of the
united front you made a bloc with France and Spain. The others
have now recognised that they were wrong, but you refuse to do
so . . . You continue to repeat the same error on every issue . . .
We propose that you should accept the collective adhesion [of the
P.S.L] first, and then you can make an individual selection after-
wards ... If you do not have the sympathy of the broad masses,
you will not be able to maintain a legal existence. If you are bent
on limiting your base you will end up without a base at all and will
be regarded as a sect." Finally, on 24 November, an ultimatum
over the signatures of Lenin, Trotsky, Zinoviev, Radek and Bukharin
was delivered to the Italian party. And it was then, for the first
time, that a rift appeared — if only briefly — in the Bordigan majority.
For whereas Bordiga was for a purely formal acceptance of dis-
cipline, but an effective policy of non-application of the Comintern's
directives, Gramsci disagreed. He feared that continued resistance
would bring the right-wing minority and Tasca to power in the
party, and the majority of the Italian delegates shared his desire
for a more active policy than that favoured by Bordiga. The upshot
was that Gramsci and Scoccimarro, together with Tasca, partici-
pated in the fusion committee nominated by the Congress, while
Bordiga boycotted it. However, this difference of opinion between
Bordiga and Gramsci was still essentially tactical — although
Gramsci was later to claim that he had not dared to press it further
in the absence of support among the other P.C.I, leaders in Italy,
and for fear of handing power in the party to Tasca. At all events,
the consequences were minimal, since the fusion issue was resolved

INTRODUCTION

liii

once and for all a couple of months later by the predominance
within the P.S.I. — despite the expulsion of the reformists, and
against all the Comintern's expectations — of an anti-fusionist
majority headed by Nenni.

It was at about this time that the Comintern began to make
serious probings with respect to the possibility of changing the
P.C.I, leadership — although as early as the autumn of ig2i over-
tures had been made to Gramsol to join the party executive in
order to act as a counter-balancing influence vis-a-vis Bordiga. Now
Rakosi (Rakosi, Kuusinen and Humbert-Droz were the three
Secretaries to the Executive Committee of the Communist Inter-
national in this period) offered Gramsci the leadership directly, with
what Gramsci described sarcastically as "the diplomatic delicacy
which was characteristic of him" ; Gramsci's response was to reject in
embarrassment the notion that the problems of the P.C.I, could be
solved by such manipulative means. Indeed, it cannot be stressed
too strongly that it is quite impossible to understand the transition
from the Bordiga leadership of 1921-3 to the Gramsci leadership
of 1924-6 simply by reference to Comintern influence. It is necessary
also to consider the actual history of the party's political experience
in Italy, and the context within which it had to operate.

The P.C.I, was formed in the first period of widespread fascist
terror. Although at Livorno it commanded delegate votes equiva-
lent to two thirds of those of the maximalist centre, its real strength
after the split proved to be far smaller. In the April 1921 general
elections, the communists won 290,000 votes, while the socialists won
over a million and a half. Party membership was around 40,000
in 1 92 1, of whom 98 per cent were workers and less than \ per cent
(245 in all) intellectuals. In that summer, while fascist violence
continued, Mussolini simultaneously engaged in complex parlia-
mentary manoeuvres. In August, the P.S.I. — who were so opposed
to any armed resistance to fascism that they had actually published
in Avanti! an extract from Papini's Story of Christ under the banner
headline: "Do Not Resist!" — signed a pacification pact with the
fascists. The situation in 192 1-2 was dominated by a grave eco-
nomic crisis, and the weakness of successive bourgeois governments.
Wages declined by some 30 per cent; there were half a million
unemployed by the beginning of 1922 ; C.G.L. membership dropped
from two million to 800,000, and P.S.I, membership from over
200,000 at Livorno to 100,000 in October 1921, 70,000 in October
1922 before the party congress, and 25,000 after the expulsion of
the reformists at the congress. Throughout the early months of

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1922, there was a continual dialogue des sourds between the P.C.I.,
hostile to any alliance with the other left organisations but pressing
for a general strike and direct action against fascism; the reformist-
led C.G.L., whose aim was to detach itself from the maxi-
malist-dominated P.S.I, and form a Labour Party which could
participate in a government coalition; and the P.S.I., which was
locked in a sterile combination of verbal intransigence with total
passivity in practice. In the summer of 1 922, fascist violence broke
out anew, and a general strike was finally called for 31 July; this
was, however, effectively sabotaged by the C.G.L. leaders, and
crushed by fascist counter-blows. This action was the last massive
expression of popular resistance to fascism, and its defeat had a
decisive negative impact on the morale of the proletariat. When
Mussolini "marched" on Rome in October 1922, the P.C.I.'s call
for a general strike found no response. During 1922, P.C.I, member-
ship, although resisting far better than that of the other left parties^
nevertheless fell to about 25,000 in September.

The fascist seizure of power in October 1922 was predictably
enough followed by a vast wave of repression. In late 1922 and
above all early 1923, it crushed most of the oppositional party
organisations and press. Terracini wrote in February 1923: "The
fascist government has unleashed the long announced anti-com-
munist round-up. In a week the police has arrested more than
5,000 comrades, including all our area secretaries, all communist
trade-union organisers, all our local councillors. Moreover, it has
succeeded in seizing all our party funds, and thus in delivering
what is perhaps a mortal blow to our press ... a real man-hunt
by the police hand-in-glove with the fascist squads . . . Our party
is not submitting, or yielding; a quarter of our members under
arrest, our organisation shattered, our press silenced, our branches
dissolved, deprived of our leader comrade Bordiga who is under
personal danger of death or torture, the Italian Communist Party
has already reassumed its function and its activity." And indeed,
although the party's illegal organisation proved to have serious
weaknesses in this first test of its effectiveness, nevertheless some
important successes were registered; notably the printing and
distribution of a clandestine edition of Ordine Nwvo (now a party
daily), and the holding of a number of public meetings in spite
of the atmosphere of terror. However, the magnitude of the blow
which had been struck at the young party needs no emphasising,
and is an index of the total failure to appreciate the dangers of
fascism under Bordiga's leadership. It would be unjust to claim

INTRODUCTION

lv

that the P.C.I, leadership was responsible for the fascist secure
of power — as both Tasca and Radek were at different times to
suggest — but it certainly gravely underestimated its significance,
and continued to do so until ig26. Even Gramsci did not prior to
his arrest arrive at a consistent and adequate appreciation of the
specificity of the new type of regime, and as for Bordiga, his declara-
tion in 1924 that "the bourgois counter-revolution for us is the
proof of the inevitability of the revolution" eloquently sums up his
determined rejection of the idea that the fascist seizure of power
was anything to worry about at all.

The Interregnum in the Italian Party 1923-24

The arrest of Bordiga and the massive blow which had been struck
at the entire party organisation meant that the time when the
Comintern, as mentioned earlier, began seriously to prospect the
possibility of making changes in the P.C.I, leadership in order to
bring the party into line coincided with a moment in which external
circumstances compelled provisional changes in any case. It was
to be well over a year before a new, coherent leadership emerged,
with positions as sharply distinguished from those of Bordiga as
they were from those of Tasca. It was to be another year after that
before the new leadership gained unshakeable control. But the
events of early 1923, when fascist repression reduced active member-
ship of the P.C.I, to little more than 5,000, and when the original
leadership was shattered by arrest and exile, so that a replacement
leadership on the ground had perforce to be installed, was decisive
in breaking Bordiga's grip on the party.

Yet it must be emphasised that the significance of what had
happened was by no means appreciated at the time by the Italian
communist leaders involved. Throughout 1923, Gramsci, Terracini,
Togliatti, Scoccimarro and the other members of the future "centre"
of 1924 continued to support Bordiga — and with the partial
exception of Gramsci they did so by conviction. They all, including
Gramsci, continued to see Tasca and the Right as the principal
threat. During the early months of 1 923, the International tended
to lay the blame both for the failure to fuse with the socialists and
for the successes of fascism at the P.C.I.'s door. This was Tasca's
view, and his reports to the Comintern during this period tended
increasingly to assume the character of a bid for the leadership.
The result, throughout 1923, was a closing of ranks in the majority
behind Bordiga. The correspondence exchanged in late 1923 and

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early 1924 between the future members of the "centre" leadership
of 1924-6 shows them all apprehensive of the danger of Tasca
winning power in the party with Comintern backing, and hence
all unwilling to contemplate a break of any kind with Bordiga.
Moreover, all of them, including Gramsci, continued throughout
1923 to share the greater part of Bordiga's perspectives, even
though they were becoming increasingly anxious about the rift
with the Comintern which these entailed. Although according to
Gramsci himself, and judging by the correspondence referred to
above, a "centre" group of a kind began to take form from the
time of the Fourth World Congress, it did so only in an absolutely
unorganised and barely conscious fashion. It was not until the end
of 1923, after his move to Vienna in November, that Gramsci
took the initiative in a series of letters to Togliatti, Terracini,
Scoccimarro, Leonetti and others towards constituting a new
leading group without Bordiga or his followers.

The P.C.I, executive in the first years of its existence consisted of
five men, all solid supporters of Bordiga, despite their differing
political pasts prior to Livorno ; Bordiga himself, Grieco, Terracini,
Repossi and Fortichiari. Now Bordiga and Grieco had been arrested,
and Fortichiari — who was responsible for the party's illegal organi-
sation — went to Moscow to discuss how best to organise resistance
to the fascist regime. Terracini was left as the de facto leader of
the party within Italy, and, at the Comintern's suggestion, he
now co-opted Togliatti and Scoccimarro onto a new provisional
executive, and Tasca onto the Central Committee; the latter was
then sent to Paris to organise the Italian emigrd community there
(there were 45,000 Italian emigre^ workers in France in 192 1;
200,000 in 1924; over 450,000 by 1926). In April, Terracini himself
was called to Moscow, and Scoccimarro sent to Berlin. Togliatti
was left in effective leadership of the party within Italy.

On 12 June 1923, there took place a meeting of the Enlarged
Executive of the Comintern largely devoted to the Italian question.
The polarisation of forces within the P.C.I, leadership had reached
a new high point. Bordiga, in prison, represented an increasingly
coherent position at one end of the spectrum: the Comintern policy
for Italy would lead to the liquidation of the P.C.I. ; the Comintern
itself was showing signs of degeneration; the Italian party was a
left vanguard struggling against this degeneration. At the other
extreme, Tasca was urging full acceptance of the Comintern line.
Moreover, he was involved in complex three-way negotiations with
the Comintern and with the new "third-internationalist" minority

INTRODUCTION

Ivii

faction inside the P.S.I, (headed by Serrati). Gramsci, Terracini,
Togliatti and the other fut'are members of the post-1924 centre
group saw this line-up as a particularly grave "liquidationist"
threat, and continued to solidarise with Bordiga.

The Comintern decided to instal a temporary "mixed" leader-
ship, in the form of a provisional executive composed of Fortichiari,
Scoccimarro and Togliatti from the old "majority", and Tasca
and Vota from the minority. Bordiga was opposed to this solution,
and advocated a typically abstentionist policy of "all power to the
minority"; he subsequently persuaded Fortichiari to withdraw
from the appointed executive (he was replaced by Gennari).
Scoccimarro and Togliatti at first hesitated, but were persuaded
to accept their posts by Gramsci. The position was now one of
the most extreme complexity. The Comintern had for the first time
nominated a new party leadership against the wishes of a majority
of its own nominees. Bordiga, Fortichiari, Grieco and Repossi of
the original P.C.I, executive all favoured an intransigent policy of
non-collaboration in any such imposed executive ; Togliatti, Terra-
cini and Scoccimarro were equally unhappy about the imposed
solution, but were persuaded by Gramsci that the dangers of
accepting were less than those of allowing a right-wing leadership.
Togliatti finally wrote to the others that he was prepared to accept
the post given him by the Comintern Executive only on condition
that the old leading group should constitute itself as a fraction and
begin "an open polemic with the International and with the
minority in the party, by means of a series of declarations of principle
and polemics which must be not only communicated to the Inter-
national but disseminated among the masses". As in the case of
the tactical disagreement between Bordiga and Gramsci at the
Fourth World Congress eight months earlier, the Bordigan majority
was still not divided on substantial issues; but in this case, the
practical consequences of a disagreement on tactics were to be
incomparably greater. It was at this juncture that Gramsci began
to search for a way out of the sterile impasse in which the Italian
party found itself — although it was to be another six months before
he was to begin concretely to prospect the possibility of creating a
new centre majority without Bordiga.

By the summer of 1923, Gramsci had been in Moscow for a year.
Remarkably little is known about this period in his life. One of the
most surprising features of his published writings is the absence of
any reflections on, or even descriptions of, Russia as he knew it in
the eighteen months he spent there at what was a crucial period in

Iviii

GRAMSGi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

the history of the revolution. What can be gleaned from his writing
and outside sources is merely a few bare elements. He was very ill
in the first months of his stay, and spent them in and out of a
clinic. He attended the Fourth World Congress, in which his part
has already been discussed above. He met Julia Schucht and fell in
love; their few months together, in Moscow and when she came to
Italy in 1925/6, were an isolated interlude of personal happiness in
Gramsci's life. He was constantly expecting to be sent back to Italy,
but the issue of a warrant for his arrest made this impossible. He
sent Trotsky some information about Italian futurism, at the latter's
request, to be included as an appendix to the original edition of
Literature and Revolution. His Comintern activities are likely to have
brought him into contact with Radek and with Zinoviev, and when
he left Moscow and took his leave of the latter he told him of his
intention to propose a new slogan of a "federal Soviet republic"
for Italy. Lastly, as we shall see, his letters written from Vienna to
Togliatti, Terracini and others in early 1924 show that his political
sympathies at this time were with the Left in the Bolshevik Party.

It is very hard to judge, on the basis of material published to date,
what Gramsci's overall attitude to Bordiga was during the first
years of the P.C.I.'s existence. On the one hand, there are numerous
documents testifying to a substantial identity of positions on all the
most important issues. On the other, there is Gramsci's own testi-
mony that his motives for accepting the Bordiga policies for so long
were mainly tactical, and that he was later to blame himself
bitterly for not differentiating himself from Bordiga earlier. At all
events, it seems clear that such differences as there were concerned
not so much questions of overall analysis, or of strategy even, as
the relation between theory and practice. While broadly sharing
Bordiga's views on the united front and the nature of social-
democracy, and while not as yet having drawn any very consistent
conclusions from what was a very different analysis of fascism, he
did clearly disagree with Bordiga's lack of any positive strategy
within Italy, with his entire conception of the party and its relation
to the masses, and with his inflexibility — especially vis-d-vis the
International.

There exist two documents which give a good idea of Gramsci's
positions in this summer of 1923, and which show him after the
Enlarged Executive meeting of June (when Zinoviev had criticised
him for equivocating on the issue of fusion with the third interna-
tionalists) beginning to elaborate a new approach to the leader-
ship problem, although still firmly opposed to the Comintern's

INTRODUCTION

lix

policy on fusion. Firstly, in a memorandum on "Relations between
the P.C.I. and the Comintern" now in the P.C.I, archives, he
wrote: "The present majority of the CP. intends to defend to the
last its position and historical role in Italy, where the unified CP.
must be constituted with an ideological centre which is neither the
traditional socialist one nor a compromise with that. We are
defending the future of the Italian Revolution . . . We may have
made mistakes and we are willing to amend them, but we are not
willing to allow the centre of attraction and of assimilation of new
elements entering the Italian section of the Comintern to be shifted
on to a new basis — represented by individuals who want to make
a compromise with the socialists on the fundamental issue. The
attitude of the Comintern and the activity of its representatives is
bringing disintegration and corruption into the communist ranks.
We are determined to struggle against the elements who would
liquidate our Party, and against the corrupt elements. The situation
of illegality and exile makes this obligatory. We do not want what
happened in Hungary and in Yugoslavia to be repeated in Italy.
If the Comintern too receives a few blows as we strike back, we
should not be blamed for that: it is a mistake to ally oneself with
untrustworthy elements." The second document consists of a letter
sent in late July to a number of comrades, including Togliatti,
Terracini, Fortichiari and Leonetti, in which Gramsci wrote: "I am
absolutely convinced that at present no useful results can come of
any discussion that is limited by us to the organisational and
juridical aspects of the Italian question; such a discussion could
only make things worse and render our task more difficult and
dangerous. What we need to do is to work concretely to prove, by
Party activity and political work that is wholly adapted to the
Italian situation, that we are what we claim to be; and to abandon
the attitude of 'unappreciated geniuses' that we have maintained
up to now." The final passage is a clear enough expression of
Gramsci's criticisms of Bordiga at this moment.

Although, as we have already pointed out, it is still not possible
to trace fully the itinerary of Gramsci's political development in
these years, the documents quoted are unambiguous evidence of
the basic elements of his position in the summer of 1923. They show
the fatuity of the view that Gramsci was simply the "Comintern's
man", parachuted into the leadership in place of the refractory
Bordiga. If anybody was the Comintern's man at this time it was
Tasca, and Gramsci did not differ from Bordiga in his condemnation
of Comintern policy. On the other hand, the documents show

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GRAMSCi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

Gramsci beginning to arrive at an estimate of Bordiga's policy
which was not so dissimilar from his earlier hostile judgement on
the "intransigent" immobility of the P.S.I, leaders at the end of
the war. From the time of his first, ill-starred entry into print on
the subject of neutrality in 1914, one of the constants of Gramsci's
position was his view that revolutionary politics must necessarily be
an active intervention in history, and could not consist simply in
adopting "correct" positions and waiting to be proved right, waiting
for the historical process to provide the circumstances in which the
ruling class would topple, the true revolutionaries would be acknow-
ledged by the masses and socialism could be ushered in. In this
summer of 1923, the contrast between Bordiga and Gramsci was
already a sharp one, despite the considerable overlap between their
views. Sharing a common estimate of the crucial importance of
defending the party against the "liquidation" which — in their
view — was threatened by the Comintern's tractations with the very
centrists against whom the P.C.I, had been formed, Bordiga con-
cluded that the International was degenerating and that it was
necessary to organise an international opposition to fight that
degeneration; whereas Gramsci concluded in effect that the party
should assume fully the task of making the revolution in Italy — if
need be despite the International. In a letter written a few months
later from Vienna he was to write: "Amadeo approaches things
from the viewpoint of an international minority, but we must
approach things from the viewpoint of a national majority." This
difference of perspective was to play a decisive part subsequently
in determining Gramsci's attitude to the inner-party struggle in
Russia.

Throughout 1923, the P.C.I, existed in a state of semi-legality.
It was not banned as such, but its leaders, militants and press were
subject to constant repression and harassment. April was the low
point as far as membership was concerned — with little more than
5,000 in the party. The summer saw a slow build-up to some eight
and a half thousand in November. However, in September
Togliatti, Tasca, Vota and Gennari — i.e. four of the fi ve members
of the new provisional executive — were arrested. In October, the
first trial of communists took place; it was a great personal triumph
for Bordiga, and culminated in his release. In December Togliatti,
Tasca and the others were also released. But in late December and
in January 1924 new repressive measures once again reduced the
communist press to total silence.

After his release, Bordiga had returned to Naples, and refused

INTRODUCTION

lxi

any position in the leadership. Instead, he drafted an open letter
to all party militants aimed at reaffirming the views of the old
majority of the P.C.I, vis-a-vis both the Comintern and the right-
wing minority. Terracini, Togliatti, Scoccimarro and the others
were all at first prepared to sign, but Gramsci refused point-blank,
and in a series of letters won over the three mentioned above,
Leonetti, Gennari, Tresso and Camilla Ravera: the centre group
for the first time had a concrete existence. In November, Gramsci
had moved from Moscow to Vienna, to take charge of a newly-
founded Comintern bureau for anti-fascist action. This was the
moment at which he seems finally to have decided to initiate the
creation of a new centre majority without Bordiga, and to work to
heal the rift with the Comintern. Although he was by no means
won over to the Comintern's views on the united front policy, he
was not prepared to follow Bordiga on his path of creating an
international opposition, and was increasingly hostile to the
immobility of his policies within Italy.

What Gramsci proposed as a way out of the impasse in which
the P.C.I, found itself was a new strategy for the party in Italy,
a strategy with close affinities with the old Ordine Nuovo thematic
of 1919-20, and also a thorough-going renovation of the party
itself, inspired by a quite different conception from that of Bordiga.
As early as September 1923, in a letter to the P.C.I, executive
written from Moscow on the subject of a proposal to found a new
working-class daily newspaper in collaboration with the "third-
internationalist" current which was in the process of being expelled
from the P.S.I., Gramsci began to evoke some of the themes which
were to inspire both his political practice between 1924 and 1926
and also his prison writings. He suggested Unita as the name of
the new paper (see p. xxvi above), and proposed the slogan of a
"federal republic of workers and peasants" as an intermediate
"ideological preparation" for a soviet regime; this concern with
the "Southern Question" and with the concrete form which the
alliance of workers and peasants might take in Italy represented
something quite new in the Italian party at that time. He also
revived one of the main themes of Ordine Nuovo in a proposal to
build on the commissioni interne as a counter to the reformist leader-
ship of the C.G.L. — increasingly tending to compromise with
fascism.

In the months which followed, in a series of letters to the other
members of the new "centre" group of P.C.I, leaders, Gramsci
outlined the main elements of the new strategy which he proposed

Ixii

GRAMSCi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

they should fight for. The main objective should be to win for the
P.C.I, a genuine mass base. To this end Gramsci proposed, on
i March, four main areas of initiative: i. intensive propaganda
around the slogan of a worker and peasant government; 2. a
struggle against the labour aristocracy, i.e. against reformism,
aimed at cementing an alliance between the mass of workers in
the North and the peasant masses in the South; the creation of a
special organising committee for the South, and a study of the
possibilities for organising an armed insurrection in the South;
3. an intensive programme of political education within the party —
with the object of superseding the existing internal divisions — and
the enlargement of the leadership; 4. the stepping up of communist
activity among the emigre population, above all in France. In
later letters, Gramsci propounded the idea of a "federal" perspective
for the South; stressed the importance of attempting to stimulate
the formation of nuclei of future factory councils (this was to be
one of the fundamental elements of P.C.I, strategy in the ensuing
two years, up to the moment of Gramsci's arrest) ; discussed the
possible transitional stages which might intervene between the
defeat of fascism and a proletarian revolution; and spoke of the
importance of winning the Milan working class to communist
positions as a precondition for the revolution in Italy.

But perhaps more important even than the new strategic aims
which Gramsci outlined in these letters was the new conception
of the party which he put forward. In the key letter of the entire
correspondence, written on 9 February 1924, he wrote: "The error
of the party has been to have accorded priority in an abstract
fashion to the problem of organisation, which in practice has simply
meant creating an apparatus of functionaries who could be depended
on for their orthodoxy towards the official view . . . The communist
party has even been against the formation of factory cells. Any
participation of the masses in the activity and internal life of the
party, other than on big occasions and following a formal decree
from the centre, has been seen as a danger to unity and centralism.
The party has not been seen as the result of a dialectical process
in which the spontaneous movement of the revolutionary masses
and the organising and directing will of the centre converge; it
has been seen merely as something suspended in the air, something
with its own autonomous and self-generated development, something
which the masses will join when the situation is right and the crest
of the revolutionary wave is at its highest point, or when the party
centre decides to initiate an offensive and stoops to the level of the

INTRODUCTION

lxiii

masses in order to arouse them and lead them into action. Naturally,
since things do not work out in this way, areas of opportunistic
infection have formed without the centre knowing anything about
them. These have had their reflection in the parliamentary group,
and subsequently, in a more organic form, in the minority." The
continuity of this critique of the P.C.I, under Bordiga with
Gramsci's earlier analysis of maximalism is evident, and it was to
be expanded and more fully theorised in some of the key passages
of the Prison Notebooks. For the moment, Gramsci began to
develop these themes in the pages of Ordine Nuovo, which was
resuscitated as a theoretical organ in March; he wrote the first
numbers almost single-handed in Vienna, and clearly saw the new
review as a key element in the intensive campaign of political
education which was essential if the party was to be won to a new
political strategy.

In the spring of 1924, the P.C.I, prepared to fight a general
election — under a new weighted electoral code and in a climate of
terror and electoral fraud. Fascism had succeeded in absorbing
broad strata of the bourgeoisie and petite bourgeoisie behind its
electoral list, and by now had won the support of the Vatican
(provoking a split in the Popular Party — see note 14 on p. 62);
it was backed by the decisive centres of financial and industrial
capital. Most of the opposition parties favoured boycotting the
election, but when the P.C.I, announced that it would participate
the other anti-fascist parties followed suit. The P.C.I, proposed an
electoral bloc, but this was refused; it therefore formed its own list,
together with the "third-internationalists" who had been expelled
from the P.S.I, and were to join the P.C.I, formally after the Fifth
World Congress in June. The Comintern representative in Italy
during this period — J. Humbert Droz — was particularly active in
pressing the P.C.I, leaders to adopt a "flexible" policy towards the
other anti-fascist forces; he worked very closely with Tasca and
Vota, the minority members of the executive.

At the time of the electoral campaign, the P.C.I, had some
12,000 members (if the 2,000 "third-internationalists" are included) .
The youth organisation had a further 5,000. The communist trade-
union committee controlled about a sixth of the 120,000 members
who remained in the C.G.L. "When the new party daily Unitd
appeared in February, it gained a circulation of about 25,000;
the new Ordine Nuovo came out in March in 6,000 copies. The party
was moderately successful in the elections, with 19 members elected
to parliament, and it maintained its vote compared to the 192 1

Ixiv

GRAMSCi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

election far better than the two socialist parties. Among those
elected was Gramsci, who returned to Italy in May.

During the electoral campaign, the Bordiga question had once
more exploded, when the latter refused to lead or indeed to figure
at all on the party's electoral list. He was now in a position of
intransigent opposition nationally as well as internationally. An
idea of the attitude of his followers at this time (although Gramsci
was to stress that Bordiga himself did not hold such views) can be
gained from a conversation which took place between Humbert
Droz and Grieco (at that time an unquestioning follower of
Bordiga), and which Droz reported to Zinoviev on 15 February
1924. Grieco had said: "The International and the party have an
anti-communist line and it is the duty of certain leaders, when they
perceive a serious deviation, to refuse to follow discipline . . .
Certain comrades are so to speak predestined to be leaders.
Bordiga, like Lenin, is one of these. Discipline cannot be applied
to such men as it can to other members of the party; their historical
mission is to apply discipline to others, not to respect it."

In May, a few days after Gramsci's return to Italy, the P.C.I,
held a consultative conference near Como. Three separate sets of
theses were presented by the Left (over the signatures of Bordiga,
Grieco, Fortichiari and Repossi), the Centre (over the signatures
of Gennari, Leonetti, Ravera, Scoccimarro and Togliatti), and
the Right (over the signatures notably of Tasca, Vota and Berti).
Although it had only consultative status, the voting on these theses
was a good index of the balance of strength in the P.C.I, at that
moment. It showed that the Centre had a slender majority in the
Central Committee over the Right, but that the Left — which had
of course refused to participate in the leading bodies of the party —
was overwhelmingly stronger than the other two factions combined
in the party apparatus as a whole.

The theses of the Right criticised the entire line of the P.C.I,
since Livorno, and while welcoming the formation of the new
Centre nevertheless held it co-responsible with the Left for that
line. They stood on the positions of the Fourth World Congress —
although as we shall see these were by this time in the process of
revision, and the Right showed its awareness of this by warning
against too wide an interpretation of the slogan of "workers'
governments". The Centre theses, drafted by Togliatti while
Gramsci was still in Vienna but supported by him on his return,
took the position that the old leadership had been right to struggle
against the minority, but wrong to oppose the line of the Fourth

INTRODUCTION

lxv

Congress. They rejected the Rome Theses, and accepted a limited
interpretation of the united front. As Zinoviev was shortly to do at
the Fifth World Congress, they defined social-democracy as the
"left wing of fascism". They saw "workers' governments" as a
mobilising slogan useful for convincing the more backward sections
of the masses that the conquest of power was on the agenda, but
warned against the illusion that there must be intermediate phases
before the installation of the proletarian dictatorship — indeed they
stated that "the existence of a regime of permanent armed dictator-
ship opens up for Italy a period of 'permanent revolution' ";
they defined fascism as "the armed dictatorship of a fraction of
the capitalist bourgeoisie and the big landowners". The Left
presented a much shorter set of theses simply reaffirming the correct-
ness of the Rome Theses and of the entire line followed by the
party since Livorno, accusing the Comintern of placing false hopes
in the P.S.I, and stressing the dangers of the united front and
workers' government slogans.

The entire situation in the party was referred to the Fifth World
Congress which took place in the following month. It was still not
certain what leadership solution the Comintern would decide on.
However, a great deal had changed in the party in the preceding
months. Bordiga's attitude by now was that only a change in the
line of the Comintern as a whole would make it possible for the
Left to participate once more in the party leadership; he regarded
the new Centre as having succumbed to Tasca, and felt that the
Right was the logical leadership in view of current Comintern
strategy. The Right, on the other hand, no longer had a monopoly
in urging the acceptance of Comintern policy in full ; moreover, as
we shall see, in the wake of the German events the tide was running
against it in the International. In addition, Tasca himself to some
extent drew nearer to the Centre from mid-March 1924 onwards,
in the course of his collaboration with Togliatti at the head of the
party; furthermore, for a number of reasons (including personal
ones) he was anxious to withdraw for a time from leadership
responsibilities, and in fact resigned from the Executive in April.

Thus the Centre was in fact in a much stronger position than it
looked at Como; over the next years it absorbed Tasca and most
of the Right, and defeated the Left within the party organisation as
a whole, winning over not only its rank and file but also many of
its leaders — such as Grieco in 1925. The new conception of the
party itself and the distinctive strategy within Italy which Grams ci
had begun to formulate in his exchange of letters with Togliatti,

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GRAMSCi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

Terracini and the others in early 1924 were in sharp contrast to
what had gone before. But the decisive factor in the change of
leadership between 1923 and 1924 was undoubtedly international —
both in the particular sense of attitudes to, and the role played by,
the Comintern, and, more importantly, in the wider sense of the
way in which the relation between the national and international
dimensions of revolution was conceived. In the crucial letter of
9 February already referred to, Gramsci wrote: "Amadeo . . .
thinks that the tactic of the International reflects the Russian
situation, i.e. was born on the terrain of a backward and primitive
capitalist civilisation. For him, this tactic is extremely voluntaristic
and theatrical, because only with an extreme effort of will was it
possible to obtain from the Russian masses a revolutionary activity
which was not determined by the historical situation. He thinks
that for the more developed countries of central and western
Europe this tactic is inadequate or even useless. In these countries
the historical mechanism functions according to all the approved
schemas of Marxism : there exists the historical determinism which
was lacking in Russia, and therefore the over-riding task must be
the organisation of the party as an end in itself. I think that the
situation is quite different. Firstly, because the political conception
of the Russian communists was formed on an international and
not on a national terrain; secondly, because in central and western
Europe the development of capitalism has determined not only the
formation of broad proletarian strata, but also and as a consequence
has created the higher stratum, the labour aristocracy with its
appendages of trade-union bureaucracy and the social-democratic
groups. The determination, which in Russia was direct and drove
the masses into the streets for a revolutionary uprising, in central
and western Europe is complicated by all these political super-
structures, created by the greater development of capitalism; this
makes the action of the masses slower and more prudent, and
therefore requires of the revolutionary party a strategy and tactics
altogether more complex and long-term than those which were
necessary for the Bolsheviks in the period between March and
November 1917. But the fact that Amadeo has this conception,
and that he seeks to achieve its victory not merely on a national
scale but also internationally, is one thing: he is a convinced man,
and struggles with great skill and great elasticity to obtain his
objective, to avoid compromising his theses, to postpone any
Comintern sanctions which might prevent him from continuing
until the historical period in which the revolution in western and

INTRODUCTION

lxvii

central Europe deprives Russia of the hegemonic position it holds
today. But that we, who are not convinced of the historical truth
of this conception, should continue to ally ourselves with it politically
and thereby give it the international status which it at present
enjoys is quite another thing. Amadeo approaches things from the
viewpoint of an international minority, but we must approach
things from the viewpoint of a national majority."

The P. CI. under Gramsci 1924-26

The two years in which Gramsci led the P.C.I, can be seen as
closing an epoch: the epoch opened by the October Revolution
in which individual communist parties elaborated their theoretical
analyses and their strategies in terms of one basic premise — the
actuality of the revolution. This is not, of course, to suggest that
many communists did not thereafter, notably during the "third
period", believe that revolution was on the immediate agenda.
"What it does mean is that from early in 1924 Comintern policies
and Comintern politics had become increasingly bound up with
the struggle in the Russian party, and by 1927 Russian develop-
ments became the determining factor.

Thus 1924—26 was a transitional phase, and it is extremely
important to stress the room for manoeuvre still remaining in this
period to an individual party such as the P.C.I. The coincidence
between Comintern strategy and that of the Italian party after the
Fifth World Congress in June 1924 was not simply a question of
cause and effect; it was rather a question of a somewhat tactical
"left" turn by the Comintern meshing in with the pre-existing
"leftism" of the P.C.I. This is made quite clear by subsequent
events. For in the spring of 1 925 the Comintern was to reverse its
"left" turn — after the fall of Macdonald in Britain and Herriot
in France, the rise to power of Hindenburg in Germany and the
repression of the K.P.D., the new consolidation of Mussolini's
regime in Italy, and the reactionary turn of events in Poland and
in Estonia — and speak of the temporary stabilisation of capitalism.
Yet there was no corresponding rightward turn in the line of the
Italian party, which was to undergo no significant modifications
until after Gramsci's arrest. Perhaps part of the reason for the
freedom of manoeuvre which this reveals — despite the bolshevisation
of the communist parties in this same period — was the extremely
complex power relations in the Comintern at this time. Zinoviev
was President of the International throughout this period; in 1924

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GRAMSCi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

he was allied to Stalin and attacking Trotsky for his "anti-peasant"
policies; by 1926 he was allied to Trotsky and attacking Stalin
and Bukharin for their "pro-peasant" policies. From early in 1925
a Bukharinist Right began to emerge within the Comintern, and
it was particularly significant for the Italian party that Humbert-
Droz — already mentioned as the Comintern representative in Italy
during 1 924, and as a close associate of Tasca during that period —
returned to Moscow in 1925 to take charge of the Latin section
of the International ; Droz was to establish excellent relations with
Bukharin, and fall with him in 1929. The upshot of this complex
situation seems to have been that Zinoviev on the one hand and
the Bukharinist Right on the other effectively cancelled each other
out for this period, with the result that it was possible for "leftist"
policies in countries like Germany and Italy to coexist with
"rightist" policies in countries like China, the United States,
Britain or Yugoslavia. In each case, the determining factors were
national rather than international.

This periodicity is of crucial importance in understanding the
basic political coordinates of Gramsci's writings in prison. These
have an organic continuity with the political universe within which
Gramsci had operated prior to his arrest; they manifest a radical
disjuncture from the political universe which existed by the time
that they were written. This is perhaps a major reason for the
opacity and oblique character of some of the central political
reflections in the Prison Notebooks, on the revolution in the West,
on the party, on the State, etc. And it is certainly the major reason
for the inappropriateness of many of the attempts that have been
made to interpret Gramsci in terms of criteria which had no meaning
in his political universe: popular frontism, Stalinism, etc. Any
theorisation of Gramsci's work must seek to set it firmly in its true
historical context, and must seek to explain all, and not merely
some, of its sometimes contradictory elements.

As has already been mentioned, after the Como conference it had
been decided to refer the leadership situation in the Italian party to
the forthcoming Fifth World Congress, due to begin in Moscow in
late June 1924. The Italian delegates included Bordiga, Togliatti,
Terracini, Tasca, Serrati, Grieco, Leonetti and Berti, all of whom
arrived in Moscow early in the month. (Gramsci and Scoccimarro,
however, had not yet left Italy when the Matteotti crisis broke out
on June 12, and consequently cancelled their departure.) The
strategies defined at the first four World Congresses can be inter-
preted as responses to the actual course of historical events — at

INTRODUCTION

bdx

least in Europe. The "left" turn which followed the German
October of 1923, on the other hand, and which was reflected at
the Fifth World Congress, can only be understood in terms of the
inner-party struggle which had already broken out in the Soviet
Union, and in terms of Zinoviev's manoeuvring to shift the blame
for the German disaster.

In the last months of 1923 Zinoviev and Stalin had launched the
campaign against "Trotskyism", the Forty Six had published their
platform, and Trotsky had published his New Course articles. In
October, the German party led by Brandler had been involved in
an abortive attempt at an insurrectionary uprising. The rising was
planned in Moscow by Zinoviev, and liaison between Moscow and
the K.P.D. was entrusted personally to Radek. After the defeat,
Zinoviev made Brandler the scapegoat for the entire affair, and
Trotsky — who had believed in the possibility of a revolution in
Germany — -joined forces with Radek — who had not — to defend
Brandler from carrying sole responsibility. Zinoviev backed the Left
inside the German party — led by Fischer and Maslov — and they
replaced Brandler. The latter was accused of rightism, and Zinoviev
took the lead in swinging the Comintern decisively to the left.
These manoeuvres were designed principally to prevent the German
disaster being used by the Russian opposition to discredit Zinoviev
himself.

Battle lines had been drawn publicly, and at the Fifth Congress
the Russian majority leaders were above all preoccupied with
preventing the opposition from winning international allies. The
obvious candidate to lead an international fraction in support of
the Russian opposition was Bordiga — in spite of the fact that
Trotsky had led the attack on the latter's rejection of the united
front at the Fourth Congress and on his espousal of the "theory of
the offensive" at the Third. For there was an obvious convergence
between Bordiga's views on the degeneration of the Comintern and
Trotsky's on the degeneration inside the Bolshevik party. Zinoviev
sought to prevent such an alliance by incorporating Bordiga into
the Comintern leadership with the post of vice-president. He saw
a bloc between the Centre and the Left as the best solution to the
P.C.I.'s internal divisions, and as a consequence of the tactical
shift to the left which he had made after the German defeat no
longer viewed Tasca and the Right with the same favour.

However, these plans shipwrecked on the rocks of Bordiga's
intransigence. He was prepared to accept a post on the Comintern
Executive, since he needed to maintain international contacts in

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GRAMSCi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

view of his perspective of organising an international Left minority
faction; but he refused any leadership position within the P.C.I.
Paradoxically, the Fifth Congress at one and the same time shifted
the line of the International substantially onto the positions which
Bordiga had been defending — united front from below, struggle on
two fronts against fascism and against social-democracy, etc. (the
line which the Gramsci leadership was to follow for the next two
years) , and at the same time it saw Bordiga's definitive isolation in
organisational terms. Bordiga gave the main Congress report on
fascism, and there was little argument with the equal stress which
he laid on the struggle against fascism and that against social-
democracy; Togliatti too spoke of social-democracy as the left wing
of fascism, and differed from Bordiga more on questions of emphasis
than on those of substance — stressing the need to make the P.C.I,
a mass party, the need for more work among the peasantry, etc.
Zinoviev, summing up the work of the Congress, spoke of two
possible alternatives for capitalism in the era of its "irremediable
crisis": "The Social-Democrats from the right wing of the labour
movement are in a process of transition and more and more
becoming converted into the left wing of the bourgeoisie, and in
places, into a wing of fascism. This is the reason that it is historically
incorrect to speak of the 'victory of fascism over social democracy'.
Fascism and social democracy (so far as their leaders are concerned)
are the right and left hands of modern capitalism, which has been
somewhat weakened by the first imperialist war, and in the first
battles of the workers against capitalism. Whatever Mussolini and
Poincare do on the one hand, or Macdonald and Herriot on the
other, favour proletarian revolution. Whether they take the road
of 'democracy' or that of fascism is of little consequence. They are
all of them merely carrying water to the mill of the proletarian
revolution." (See note 70 on p. 169.) This expressed very exactly
Bordiga's view. However, he still preferred to remain in opposition
within the P.C.I. Therefore, when a new Central Committee and
Executive were nominated by a special commission at the close of
the Congress, the Centre was given a majority on both bodies,
with minority representation for the Right and for the "third-
internationalists" who now became formally members of the party.
The new executive was made up of Gramsci, Togliatti and
Scoccimarro from the Centre, Mersu from the Right (Tasca did
not want the post but was in the new C.C.), and the ex-third-
internationalist socialist Mafn. Two months later Gramsci was
elected to the new post of secretary-general of the party.

INTRODUCTION

lxxi

The Fifth World Congress on the surface represented a shift to
the left, and since the analyses which it formulated corresponded
broadly to those of both Centre and Left in the P.C.I, it definitively
healed the rift between the Italian party and the International.
But what was Gramsci's real estimate of its significance, and what
explains the substantial shift in his international positions, notably
on Russia itself, between the spring of 1924 and the spring of 1925?
Some answer, even if a necessarily incomplete one, is essential to
understanding certain of the key passages in the Prison Notebooks.

In February 1924, Gramsci had written: "Just as I did not
believe a year ago that the International was moving to the right . . .
I do not believe today that it is moving to the left." He rejected
the simple explanation for the German debacle offered by Zinoviev,
i.e. that Brandler was a rightist; Gramsci described Brandler's
strategy in 1923 as if anything putschist, and dismissed the question
of which of the two contending factions in the German party — the
Brandler/Thalheimer pre-October leadership, or Zinoviev's pro-
teges Fischer and Maslov who replaced them after the defeat — was
"right" and which "left" as "a rather Byzantine question". More-
over, he was at this time broadly sympathetic to the outlook of
the Left in the Russian party. He wrote: "It is well known that in
November 19 17, while Lenin and the majority of the party had
gone over to Trotsky's view and intended to take over not merely
political power but also economic power, Zinoviev and Kamenev
remained in the traditional party view and wanted a revolutionary
coalition government with the Mensheviks and Social-Revolu-
tionaries ... In the recent polemic which has broken out in Russia,
it is clear that Trotsky and the opposition in general, in view of
the prolonged absence of Lenin from the leadership of the party,
have been greatly preoccupied about the danger of a return to the
old mentality, which would be damaging to the revolution. Demand-
ing a greater intervention of proletarian elements in the life of the
party and a diminution of the powers of the bureaucracy, they
want basically to ensure the socialist and proletarian character of
the revolution and to prevent a gradual transition to that democratic
dictatorship — carapace for a developing capitalism — which was
still the programme of Zinoviev and Co. in November 191 7. This
seems to me to be the situation in the Russian party . . . the only
novelty is the passage of Bukharin to the Zinoviev, Kamenev, Stalin
group."

However, from the spring of 1924 onwards there was increasing
pressure on communist parties to align themselves with the majority

lxxii GRAMSCi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

in the Russian party. From the passages quoted it is clear that N
Gramsci did not personally accept the version of the Russian inner-
party struggle which was disseminated in Comintern circles at this
time. But four main, inter-related factors combined to determine a
substantial alignment with the successive dominant groups within
the Russian party from this period onwards — an alignment which
by 1926 at least was not merely tactical but based on conviction.
In the fi rst place, the terms of the struggle in Russia were filtered
through to foreign communists via a Comintern apparatus which
was henceforward increasingly itself an instrument of that struggle.
Secondly, Gramsci made the healing of the breach with the Comin-
tern and a full acceptance of international discipline the very
foundation of the new Centre leadership and its basic difference
with Bordiga. Thirdly, the issues of the Russian oppositions and the
Left in the Italian party became inextricably mixed in the mid-
twenties. The stances adopted by Trotsky and by Bordiga both
raised analogous questions with regard to party discipline and the
formation of fractions. Moreover, for a period — from 1925 to 1930 —
Bordiga aligned himself with Trotsky internationally; it became
impossible for the Italian party to discuss Russian questions without
reference to its own internal situation. Lastly, Gramsci's strategy in
Italy was increasingly directed towards the Southern peasantry, and
concerned with the forging of a worker-peasant alliance. In 1 926,
he saw the positions of the Joint Opposition in Russia as a threat
to the latter. These four factors combined, in an often contradictory
way as we shall see, to determine Gramsci's change of position; the
contradictions are reflected in the Prison Notebooks.

Gramsci's return to Italy from Vienna in May 1 924 preceded by
less than a month the outbreak of the Matteotti crisis on 12 June.
When the social-democratic leader was assassinated by fascist
thugs, the regime seemed suddenly vulnerable and internally
divided; its backers appeared to waver; and the opposition gained
confidence. The first months of Gramsci's leadership saw a new
room for manoeuvre for the party, and a considerable growth in
its strength. Yet the crisis did not go so deep as the communist
leaders thought, and the remaining two years of the P.C.I.'s open
existence in Italy were to be a long defensive action against quite
overwhelming odds.

As early as 192 1-2, Gramsci had opposed the prevalent view in
the Italian party that a fascist or military dictatorship was
impossible. According to his own account, he had prevented such
a view being incorporated in the Rome Theses. However, as we

INTRODUCTION

lxxiii

have already indicated, even he did not achieve in the years which
followed a consistent or adequate appreciation of the fascist phe-
nomenon — indeed it would have been impossible at that time to
foresee the full potentialities of fascism as a new and sui generis
form of bourgeois reactionary rule. Even before the Matteotti
crisis broke out, in the spring of 1924 he was already writing of
the possibility of a social-democratic "alternative" replacing
fascism. He was critical of Bordiga for underestimating the internal
contradictions of Italian capitalism and for believing that the
specific forms of bourgeois rule were irrelevant and that the only
perspective was one of .a crisis of the capitalist system and the
revolutionary upsurge and mass swing to communism which this
crisis would necessarily entail. When Matteotti was murdered, and
the regime appeared unconfident and divided, Gramsci became
more than ever convinced that a social-democratic alternative was
imminent, and that this would put proletarian revolution once
more on the immediate agenda.

It is easy to see the similiarities as well as the differences between
Gramsci's and Bordiga's perspectives. Both were based on a belief
in the general crisis of the bourgeois order and in the actuality of
the revolution. Both accepted only the united front "from below",
and stressed the need to struggle not only against the regime itself
but equally — or even primarily — against the social-democrats, the
"left wing of the bourgeoisie". But whereas Bordiga saw fascism
and social-democracy simply as two inter-changeable forms of
bourgeois rule, rejected the notion that whether one form or the
other happened to be adopted by Italian capitalism could be of
any consequence to the P.C.I., and foresaw a direct replacement
of the existing regime by the dictatorship of the proletariat, Gramsci's
conception was a less reductionist one. He had always analysed
fascism in terms of its social base, and he saw its disintegration in
terms of the detachment of sections of this base — above all the
urban petite bourgeoisie. He thought that a social-democratic
"alternative" would be a short-lived and inherently unstable
transitional phase — analogous to the Kerensky regime in the Soviet
Union — and that it would quickly lead to a period of civil war,
for which the proletariat must be prepared; but he also thought
that initially the fall of fascism might see an increase of support
for the social-democratic organisations.

After Matteotti's murder, the opposition parties left parliament
and met in an alternative assembly on the Aventine. Although the
P.C.I, at first participated in this, its attitude to the other anti-

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GRAMSCi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

fascist parties remained unchanged. At a Central Committee
meeting in mid-July, Scoccimarro argued that there were two
possible outcomes to the crisis; either the most intransigent wing
of fascism would take over and instal a yet more dictatorial regime,
or there would be an agreement between the fascists and the
opposition parties. Gramsci agreed with this assessment, and stressed
that fascism could not possibly be overthrown except by mass
struggle. In another Central Committee meeting the following
month, Gramsci recognised that the democratic opposition parties
remained the axis of popular anti-fascism, but emphasised that they
must be combated for that very reason. He described the Aventine
opposition as "semi-fascist". Underlying these positions was the
belief that fascism was disintegrating, and that the real forces of
the bourgeois State would pass over to the opposition — which was
therefore the main danger. In Gramsci's view, the P.C.I.'s strategy
in this situation must be an all-out attempt to capture the majority
of the proletariat, and he picked out the creation of factory com-
mittees as the key immediate objective.

To resume Gramsci's perspective in this period, he did reject
both the ultra-left view that there could be no transition whatever
between fascism and the dictatorship of the proletariat (a view
which was to characterise the third period), and the rightist view
that communist aims should be limited for the moment to the
struggle against fascism and the restoration of bourgeois democracy
and that the fight against the social-democrats should therefore be
suspended — implying that there would be a stable period of transi-
tion between fascism and the proletarian revolution (a view which
was to characterise the period from 1927 to 1928). But within
these two extremes, there was still considerable room for error, and
it seems undeniable that Gramsci and the other P.C.I, leaders did
seriously underestimate the strength and possibilities for internal
development of the fascist regime.

The whole history of the P.C.I, in its remaining two years of
semi-legal existence was marked by this failure of appreciation
(which was in Gramsci's own case almost certainly one of the main
factors in his decision to remain in Italy until he was arrested).
The return of the P.C.I, deputies to parliament in November 1924
was inspired by a concern to expose the Aventine opposition in the
event of the collapse of fascism which the party expected. Any idea
of a united front other than "from below" was still rejected. When
the fascists finally struck back in January 1925, and Mussolini's
speech assuming responsibility for the Matteotti murder was

INTRODUCTION

Ixxv

followed by a new wave of repression, this was seen by the party as
a mere episode. A compromise between fascism and the opposition
was still confidently expected. (It should be stressed that the other
opposition parties had an equally mistaken assessment of the true
situation; the Aventine parties issued a statement at this time
which declared "The moral battle has already been won"!).

P.C.I, membership at the end of 1924 had risen to about 25,000,
and a legal apparatus of sections and federations was re-created side
by side with the clandestine cells during the months following
Matteotti's death. It was still an overwhelmingly working-class
party, still firmly believing in the inevitability of the world defeat
of capitalism in the wake of the October Revolution. Every strengthen-
ing of repression was taken as a sign of ruling-class weakness. It
must be emphasised that the Left still dominated the party organisa-
tion as a whole. In the elections for new federation committees
which took place between September and December 1924, Bordiga
still controlled the majority of federations, and the most important
ones: Turin, Milan, Rome, Naples to name only the largest. But,
the leadership too broadly shared the view that had been so succinctly
expressed by Bordiga earlier in the year: "the bourgeois counter-
revolution for us is the proof of the inevitability of the revolution".

Up to this time, the inner-party struggle in the Soviet Union
had hardly impinged at all on the internal situation in the P.C.I.
In the theses prepared for the Como conference — which had taken
place in the aftermath of the first open phase of the conflict which
opposed Zinoviev, Kamenev and Stalin to Trotsky and to the
Forty Six — Bordiga and the Left had remained silent on the Russian
question; Togliatti and the Centre had expressed general support
for the majority in the Bolshevik party while stressing the need
for detailed knowledge of the issues involved; only Tasca and the
Right had raised the question in a substantive fashion, and had
attacked Trotsky for endangering the unity of the Bolshevik leader-
ship — in line with Zinoviev's presentation of the issue. It is true
that during the conference itself, Gramsci was to draw the first
analogy between the attitudes of Trotsky and Bordiga respectively
to party discipline. But this analogy was not to be repeated again
until the following year.

At the Fifth World Congress, the Russian inner-party struggle
had been temporarily at a halt, at least on the surface; but it had
been reopened when Trotsky published his Lessons of October in the
autumn of 1924. It was after this that Bordiga began to align
himself internationally with Trotsky — an alignment which was to

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ORAMSCi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

last intermittently up to 1 930, and which was to lead Gramsci and
the other P.C.I, leaders to view the Russian party struggle to a
very great extent in terms of their own conflict with Bordiga. The
P.C.I, in fact first discussed the Russian question in a Central
Committee meeting of February 1925, after Trotsky had made a
declaration of discipline; in the following years, of course, events
in Russia were to have a growing importance for the P.C.I.

The type of contradictions to which the assimilation of Bordiga
and Trotsky was to lead was revealed dramatically in the course of
this first discussion in February 1925. Bordiga had taken up some
theses put forward by Trotsky in a speech on "Perspectives of
World Development" the previous July, on the subject of the
growing strength of American capitalism and its increasing
hegemony over Europe. Gramsci attacked these in the following
terms: "We reject these predictions which, by deferring the revolu-
tion indefinitely, would shift the entire tactics of the Communist
International — which would have to go back to propagandistic and
agitational activity among the masses. Moreover, they would shift
the tactics of the Russian State since, if the European revolution is
deferred for an entire historical period, if in other words the Russian
working class for a long period of time is to be unable to count
on the support of the proletariat of other countries, it is evident
that the Russian revolution must be modified." The issues pre-
sented by Gramsci were real ones — Stalin had formulated his
theory of "Socialism in One Country" for the first time only a few
weeks earlier — but clearly the protagonists of the debate were
reversed in Gramsci's presentation! (Incidentally, this discussion
was probably the origin of Gramsci's subsequent interest in the
specific character of American capitalism, developed notably in the
notes on "Americanism and Fordism" — see pp. 277-318.)

But even at this Central Committee meeting, the main focus of
the discussion was not any such theoretical issue, but the problem
of fractions within the party; it was in terms of this that the analogy
between Bordiga and Trotsky was most frequently drawn in the
following years. This was the period of bolshevisation of the com-
munist parties, and their closer alignment with the Russian party.
In May at a Central Committee meeting Gramsci spoke of
bolshevisation as a Leninist stabilisation of the communist parties,
and defined Bordigism as a provincial tendency to refuse incor-
poration in a world organisation. (Bordiga, for his part, had long
characterised Gramsci's strategy as a provincial tendency to view
the problem of revolution in exclusively national terms.) Earlier,

INTRODUCTION

lxxvii

in March/ April, at the important Fifth Enlarged Executive meeting
of the Comintern at which the Fifth Congress strategy was redefined
in a decisively "right-wing" sense, Stalin had put direct pressure on
Scoccimarro to include an attack on Trotsky in his prepared speech
on bolshevisation and the struggle against Bordiga. Bordiga himself
had in February submitted an article in defence of Trotsky for
publication in Unita. The question of fractionism in general, of the
struggle against Bordiga in particular, and the question of Trotsky
were now inextricably intertwined.

During the rest of 1925, events in Russia had less direct reper-
cussions in Italy. Bordiga's article and Scoccimarro's Moscow
speech on Trotsky were published by Unita in July, but without
any accompanying discussion. In any case, during this period
Trotsky had withdrawn from the inner-party struggle in the Soviet
Union, and it was the dissensions between Stalin and Bukharin
on the one hand and Zinoviev and Kamenev on the other which
were now fast emerging. Gramsci always resisted the tendency
current by that time in the Comintern to reduce substantive dis-
agreements to simple factional disputes. In this period, the Comin-
tern was generally following the lead given by Zinoviev at the
Fifth Enlarged Executive meeting already referred to, in assimilating
left and right oppositions as "right opportunist". Gramsci never
accepted this type of crude amalgam, and continued to speak of
right and left tendencies as two separate entities. When a date
was announced for the forthcoming Third Congress of the party,
he suggested that the pre-congress discussion could be a valuable
opportunity for general reflection — not only on the internal state
of the party, but on more fundamental problems of the worker-
peasant alliance, etc.

But the situation was not one which allowed such calm, non-
factional discussion. The process of bolshevisation was inexorably
eroding the strength of the Left in the party. A number of factors
contributed to this process: the Left's conflict with the Comintern
and rejection of the latter's discipline; its leader's self-imposed
isolation and refusal to accept posts of responsibility in the party;
Gramsci's inner-party activity, especially among the youth; the
new intake of militants who had joined the party in the period
following Matteotti's murder; the influence inevitably exerted by
the group at the centre which ran the party organisationally. It
was hardly a surprise when in June the Left reacted to this loss
of its support by openly organising as a fraction, and forming the
Comitato d'Intesa — quickly condemned by both the party executive

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GRAMSCi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

and the Comintern, and dissolved after an ultimatum from the
latter. The fact that the formation of this committee happened to
coincide with a new wave of fascist repression damaged the Left
yet further. By the time the Third Congress of the party finally
took place at Lyons in January 1926, the Centre controlled 90 per cent
of the party. A total reversal of the respective strengths of the Left
and the Centre had taken place in the eighteen months since Como.
It was not surprising that the Lyons Congress thus took place in
an atmosphere envenomed by bitter accusations of fractionism on
the one hand, of undemocratic practices in the name of "bolshevi-
zation" on the other.

Throughout 1925, the fascist regime intensified the dictatorial
character of its rule. The P.C.L's traditional view equating fascism
and social-democracy was not abandoned, but it now began to be
accompanied by a new awareness of fascism as a unifier of the
ruling class and expression of its interests. "Fascism has given back
to the bourgeoisie a class consciousness and class organisation",
wrote Gramsci in February; at about the same time he wrote to
Julia in Moscow that it was no longer possible to expect "any
very imminent end to fascism as a regime . . .". But if anything
the P.C.L moved farther to the left under the impact of the new
repression. Gramsci continued to speak of the need to liquidate the
P.S.I, and its hold over the masses, and it was with this aim that
the party campaigned around the slogan of "Worker and peasant
committees". But now, in addition, Gramsci spoke of the need to
"put on the agenda . . . the preparation for an insurrection. Recent
political events mark the beginning of a phase in which insurrection
has become the sole means for the masses to express their political
will".

In April 1925, Togliatti was arrested; however, he was amnestied
in June of the same year. In August, while preparations were being
made for the party to go underground again completely, the party
secretariat was discovered and Terracini arrested. The main focus
of P.C.I, activity by now was the struggle for trade-union autonomy.
In October, the employers' federation signed a pact with the fascist
"corporations" (fake trade unions), in which the latter were given
sole bargaining rights, and the commissioni interne were suppressed.
The C.G.L. was by now reduced to a shadow of what it had once
been, and its reformist leaders were already preparing to dissolve it
entirely — although this did not prevent them from fighting a
bitter factional struggle against the communists inside the unions.
The strategy of the P.C.I, was a two-pronged one: to build up auto-

INTRODUCTION

lxxix

nomous factory committees, and to defend C.G.L. independence
so that "the trade-union movement will be reborn under our
control", as Gramsci put it. It was at this point that a new disagree-
ment with Tasca arose in the Central Committee, on an issue
which was to become very important the following year. For
Tasca criticised the whole attempt to stimulate the formation of
autonomous factory committees, outside the established trade-union
structure (it was substantially the same disagreement which had
arisen in 1919-20), and called for an initiative towards the P.S.I,
and an attempt to reach agreement with the reformist C.G.L.
leaders for common action to defend the remnants of trade-union
independence.

In November 1925, the opposition press was finally crushed and
brought under fascist control, with the partial exception of the
socialist and communist organs, Avanti! and Unita, which were per-
mitted a continued semi-legal existence. Although by the end of
1 925 the communist leaders did cease speaking of the possibility
of compromise between fascism and the constitutional opposition,
they neither made any distinction between anti-fascist struggle and
the socialist revolution, nor did they revise their judgement on the
P.S.I, as the last bastion of bourgeois reaction; they were to continue
throughout 1926 to resist efforts which the Comintern now began
to make to persuade them to pursue a serious united front policy.
During the autumn of 1925, arrests of communists continued
steadily, and the party was compelled to reorganise itself almost
completely during this period in which it was preparing for its
Third Congress — which had been postponed after Terracini's
arrest, but was now scheduled to take place at Lyons in January
1926. It was something of an achievement that during 1925 the
P.C.I, maintained its membership under extremely difficult con-
ditions; by the end of the year it had some 27,000 members, largely
organised in cells. However, to a considerable extent it had lost
working-class members as a result of the repression, and had com-
pensated for this by increased recruitment among the peasantry.

By the end of 1925, the party leaders were coming to recognise
that the situation was indeed a qualitatively new one, and Gramsci
began now to formulate a new strategic conception which he was
to develop in the Congress Theses and in his 1926 essay on the
Southern Question. The basic elements of this new conception were
as follows : fascism had successfully united the Italian ruling class ; but
economic contradictions could not be resolved, and would progres-
sively tend to detach the middle strata — especially in the South —

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from the fascist bloc; this perspective meant that the alliance
between northern proletariat and southern peasantry must be seen
in new terms. At a Central Committee meeting in November 1925,
Gramsci said: "In Italy the situation is revolutionary when the
proletariat in the North is strong; if the proletariat in the North is
weak, the peasants fall in behind the petite bourgeoisie. Conversely,
the peasants of southern Italy represent an element of strength and
revolutionary stimulus for the workers in the North. The northern
workers and the southern peasants are thus the two immediate
revolutionary forces (the southern peasants are 80 per cent con-
trolled by the priests) to which we must devote all our attention. . .
If we succeed in organising the southern peasants, we will have
won the revolution; at the moment of the decisive action a transfer
of the armed forces of the bourgeoisie from North to South to
confront the insurrection of the southern peasantry allied to the
northern proletariat will afford the workers greater possibilities for
action. Our general task is therefore clear: organise the workers of
the North and the southern peasants and forge their revolutionary
alliance." And indeed, the two focuses of communist action in
the last period of its semi-legal existence in Italy were the creation
of base organisations in the factories and greatly intensified work
among the peasantry.

The Lyons Congress saw the last major challenge by the Left inside
the P.C.I. The main issues of the pre-congress discussion were bol-
shevisation and relations with the International. The platform of the
Left turned on opposition to bolshevisation, especially to reorganisa-
tion on the basis of factory cells which it saw as creating a basis for
a new corporativism, and on a condemnation of what it claimed was
the "tacticism" of the Centre leadership; it laid the responsibility
for the emergence of fractionism at the door of the leadership and
of the Comintern. Gramsci and the Centre, on the other hand,
violently attack the Left's "fractionism", and argued that bolshevisa-
tion should be seen as the construction of a real world communist
party and that opposition to it was the result of provincial residues.
The Centre's Congress Theses, published in October and drafted
by Gramsci with the collaboration of Togliatti, give the most
complete resume of the leadership's analysis and strategy in this
last period of semi-legal existence. The theses repudiated the entire
socialist tradition in Italy prior to Livorno, and stressed the quali-
tative novelty introduced by the October Revolution and Leninism.
(This was in marked contrast to the Bordigan view, expressed in
the Rome Theses of 1922, that the P.C.I, was the continuer of the

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lxxxi

intransigent left tradition within the P.S.I., and that Lenin had
resuscitated the true Marxism rather than adding anything new.)
The theses went on to reaffirm that no revolution was possible in
Italy other than a proletarian revolution to overthrow capitalism;
to characterise the ruling-class bloc of northern industrialists and
southern landowners ; to analyse the role of the proletariat — which
was compared with that of pre-revolutionary Russia, numerically
small but advanced and highly concentrated, and whose strength
was emphasised in view of the heterogenous and backward nature
of the Italian social structure; to describe how fascism, whose
original base had been in the urban petite bourgeoisie and the
rural bourgeoisie, had become the tool of the capitalist class. The
period was defined as one of preparation for revolution; stress was
laid on the internal contradictions of fascism, which might lead
to its imminent collapse, and also on inter-imperialist contradic-
tions, notably between the United States and Britain, which made
war not unlikely. The theses went on to formulate the concept of
an alliance between the northern proletariat and the southern
peasantry, and to define the anti-fascist opposition forces as so many
links in a chain of reaction stretching from fascism to the P.S.I.
The idea that any post-fascist democratic phase was possible was
rejected; any transitional phase would be brief and unstable, and
lead quickly to the outbreak of civil war. Lastly, the united front
was given the most narrow possible definition, as merely a means
for unmasking the reformists.

The Lyons Congress itself lasted for a week, and an extremely
hard-hitting discussion ranged over the entire experience of the five
years of the party's existence. Gramsci's main report lasted four
hours, Bordiga's reply lasted seven! The congress was dominated
by the ideological conflict between the Centre leadership and the
Left, which invested every aspect of analysis, tactics and strategy.
Yet significantly enough, when the disagreements with Tasca also
came up in the discussion of trade-union strategy and the factory
committees (and it must be remembered that the Right had not
existed as a tendency since the Fifth World Congress, but had been
effectively absorbed by the new leadership), the response of the
Centre — Gramsci and Scoccimarro in particular — revealed a
hostility as great as that shown towards the Left. Gramsci spoke
of "a rightist conception, connected to the desire not to clash too
seriously with the reformist trade-union bureaucracy which strenu-
ously opposes any organisation of the masses". We have already
sufficiently stressed the elements of continuity between the Left and

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Centre leaderships not to need to emphasise that the differences
between Gramsci and Tasca were just as fundamental as those
between Gramsci and Bordiga. Moreover, in view of the depth of
these differences, it says much for the type of leadership exercised
by Gramsci that he made every effort to ensure that the tendencies
within the party should all be represented in the party's leading
bodies. And this time he succeeded in persuading Bordiga to join
the Central Committee, together with another representative of
the Left. Tasca too remained on the C.C., and a new executive —
shortly to be renamed the Political Committee — consisting of
Gramsci, Terracini (freed from prison shortly after the Congress),
Togliatti, Scoccimarro, Camilla Ravera, Ravazzoli and Grieco
was appointed. Togliatti, a month after the Congress, was sent to
Moscow as P.C.I, representative to the Comintern.

There had been no discussion of the Russian question at the
Lyons Congress. This was the moment when the conflict between
Stalin and Bukharin on the one hand and Zinoviev, Kamenev and
Krupskaya on the other hand had just exploded at the Fourteenth
Congress to the Bolshevik Party in December 1925; Trotsky had
been silent for almost a year, and it was only in April 1926 that
he was to join forces with Zinoviev and Kamenev. But almost
immediately after Lyons, the Sixth Enlarged Executive Committee
meeting took place in Moscow, and inevitably the new inner-party
struggle in Russia formed its background. Zinoviev was of course
still President of the Comintern, and it had become essential for
Stalin and Bukharin to prevent him from using the international
organisation as a power base. The Central Committee of the Russian
party therefore requested the other national sections of the Comin-
turn not to carry the discussion of the Russian question into the
ranks of the International. However, they had not reckoned with
Bordiga.

The Italian delegation was headed by Togliatti, and included
Grieco, Gennari, Berti, Bordiga and several others. When the
delegation met before the Congress to discuss the draft theses
presented by Zinoviev, Bordiga declared that Russia was faced
with two possible perspectives : advance towards socialism, or failure
to continue this advance. He stated that the International had the
duty to analyse these possibilities, and that the individual national
sections could and should intervene. This meant of course direct
defiance of the Russian Central Committee's request, and the
Italian delegates — after Bordiga had left the meeting — decided to
ask the Russian party for information on the Russian situation.

INTRODUCTION

lxxxiii

The next day a new meeting of the Italian delegates was arranged
with Stalin. According to Berti, Bordiga had meanwhile had a long
meeting with Trotsky. At all events, a prolonged and violent
confrontation took place; — to the considerable embarrassment of the
other Italian delegates — between Stalin and Bordiga, in which the
latter's questions ranged from the attitude taken up by Stalin
towards the provisional government in 1 9 1 7 prior to Lenin's return
to the current policies being followed in the Soviet Union towards
the middle peasantry. The next day, at the plenary session of the
Congress, Bordiga made the sole oppositional speech. Lasting four
hours, it was the most extended expression of his analysis of the
relation between the Russian revolution, the International and the
revolution in the West. "We were told: we only have one party
which has achieved a victorious revolution, and that is the Russian
Bolshevik Party. Therefore we must follow the path which led the
Russian party to victory. That is quite true, but it is not sufficient.
The Russian party fought in special conditions, that is to say in a
country in which the feudal aristocracy had not yet been defeated
by the capitalist bourgeoisie. It is necessary for us to know how to
attack a modern democratic bourgeois State which, on the one
hand, has its own means of corrupting and misleading the prole-
tariat, and, on the other hand, can defend itself on the terrain of
armed struggle more effectively than the Tsarist autocracy was
able to do. This problem does not figure in the history of the
Russian Communist Party . . . We are told that the correct solution
is ensured by the leading role of the Russian party. But there are
reservations to be made on that score. What is the leading factor
within the Russian party itself? Is it the Leninist old guard? But
after the recent events it is clear that this old guard can be divided.
. . . The correct solution lies elsewhere. It is necessary to base
ourselves on the whole International, on the whole world proletarian
vanguard. Our organisation is like a pyramid and must be so,
because everything must flow from the individual sectors towards
a common summit. But this pyramid is balanced on its summit,
and is too unstable. It must be turned the other way up . . . Given
that the world revolution has not yet developed in other countries,
it is necessary for Russian policy to be worked out in the closest
relation to the general revolutionary policy of the proletariat . . .
The basis for this struggle is certainly, and primarily, the Russian
working class and its communist party, but it is essential also to
base ourselves on the proletariat in the capitalist countries and on
its class awareness — which is the result of its living relationship with

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GRAMSCi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

the class enemy. The problem of Russian politics will not be resolved
within the closed field of the Russian movement; the direct con-
tribution of the entire communist proletarian International is
necessary". We quote the speech at some length both because it
gives some idea of the stature of Bordiga (he was almost the
principal protagonist of the Congress; hardly a speech did not take
up one or other of his arguments), and also because of the parallel
between its thesis on the difference between the revolution in Russia
and that in the West and some of Gramsci's most important prison
reflections. The episode also presaged a new phase in the Italian
inner-party struggle. For whereas Bordiga declared during the
discussion that "The history of Lenin is the history of fractions",
Togliatti was now explicit that in his view "The most serious danger
is the danger of the extreme Left".

During the summer of 1926 the Joint Opposition, formed in
April, suffered its first major defeat in July, over the Anglo-Soviet
Trade-union Committee, and Zinoviev was excluded from the
Politburo. Togliatti, working closely with Humbert Droz during
this period in Moscow, was subjected to constant pressure by Droz
and Bukharin to work for a shift in the P.C.I.'s "left" line, especially
in the trade-union field. He was won over to their positions in
April — and this fact was to assume its full significance after Gramsci's
arrest, when Togliatti became effective leader of the party. (In
the same month, Togliatti put forward the somewhat Machiavellian
proposal in the Latin secretariat of the Comintern that Trotsky
should be invited to wrfce a polemical article against Bordiga, and
Tasca another against the Right in the French party, as contribu-
tions to the struggle against left and right deviations.) But in Italy,
the party leadership did not modify its attitude towards the trade
unions — whose reformist leaders were in fact to accede to the
fascist request to dissolve the C.G.L. formally only a few months
later — throughout the year.

After the Enlarged Executive meeting, the P.C.I, respected the
request of the Russian party not to intervene in, or comment upon,
its internal struggle. When the July measures were taken against
the Joint Opposition, Unita merely published a brief note — perhaps
by Gramsci — supporting the disciplinary measures taken, but limit-
ing its comment to the issue of fractionism and not entering into
the substance of the discussion. However, in September Togliatti
indicated from Moscow that the ban on discussion of the Russian
question should be considered as no longer valid, and Gramsci
published a series of polemical articles (directed against fascist

INTRODUCTION

lxxxv

newspaper accounts) which, although not intervening directly in
the Russian debates, did represent a full expression of support for
the majority in the Russian party. In particular, he wrote: "It
is inevitable that in the mass of the peasantry there should appear
differences, and that rich and middle peasants should arise; but
the very fact that the former will always be a small minority means
that their interests will clash with those of the mass of poor peasants
and wage-earners. Their political influence will not therefore
become dangerous, since the alliance between the poor peasants
and the workers will be reinforced by these very developments."
There is no question that Gramsci accepted the view of the majority
in the Russian party that the line defended by the Joint Opposition
would endanger the alliance of workers and peasants, and indeed he
said as much in the famous letters which he wrote in early October,
just before his arrest, on behalf of the P.C.I. Executive to the Russian
Central Committee.

In the first of these two letters, Gramsci expressed the party
leadership's official support for the Stalin/Bukharin majority in the
Russian party, and accepted the majority's view that the Joint
Opposition was endangering the alliance of workers and peasants
and that it had been guilty of fractional activity. At the same
time, however, Gramsci expressed the Italian party's fears about
the course which the Russian inner-party struggle was taking, and
stressed that "unity and discipline cannot be mechanical and
coercive; they must be loyal and the result of conviction, and not
those of an enemy unit imprisoned or besieged — thinking all the
time of how to escape or make an unexpected counter-attack." In
the second letter, Gramsci replied with very considerable acerbity
to the reasons put forward by Togliatti in Moscow for not trans-
mitting the P.C.I.'s first letter to the Russian Central Committee
to whom it was addressed, dismissing these reasons as "vitiated by
bureaucratism", etc. He wrote with very great eloquence of the
importance of "the Leninist line" which "consists in struggling for
the unity of the party, and not merely for external unity but for
the rather more profound kind which involves there not being
inside the party two political lines which diverge on every question".
He expressed his pessimism about the chances of the Bolshevik Party
in fact being able to maintain the unity which he saw as being so
important an element of its strength. Once again, he stressed that
the P.C.I.'s original letter had been "a whole indictment of the
opposition".

In 1926, the last margin of semi-legality remaining to the P.C.I.

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GRAMSGI: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

was progressively reduced, until in early November the fascist jaws
finally closed on the remnants of opposition which had been
allowed to exist until then. The year was a crucial one in the
evolution of fascism, and it was now, under the impact of growing
economic contradictions, that the basis of the corporate State and
of the interventionist economic policies which were to characterise
the regime in the thirties was first laid. The P.C.I., and notably
Gramsci, were gradually coming to formulate a more coherent and
sophisticated analysis of the regime and the contradictory social
forces which supported it than they had previously held. But even
so, the fundamental line did not alter. In October, the party
executive could still issue a directive which said: "the problem of
the P.S.I, for us is part of the more general problem of reorganising
the industrial proletariat which our party has set itself. The maxi-
malist party is a factor of disorganisation and disorientation of the
masses : it represents a negative element of the situation which will
have to be superseded and eliminated." Moreover, in August
Tasca still felt it necessary to write to Gramsci that "The present
economic crisis does not find at the helm of State a politically
oscillating petit-bourgeois stratum, an easy prey to panic when
faced with a situation of such seriousness; it finds a well-defined
capitalist group, homogeneous, endowed with a political experi-
ence . . . The typical feature of the present period . . . remains . . .
the direct taking over of the State apparatus by big capital, and
the latter's decisive and commanding role in government policy".
Tasca, characteristically, drew pessimistic conclusions of the type
which caused Gramsci to consider him a "liquidator"; but, in the
summer of i g26, his pessimism can hardly be regarded as unjustified.

On 31 October 1926, an alleged attempt was made on Mussolini's
life by a 15-year-old boy; it was taken as the pretext for a new
wave of repression. The Council of Ministers met on 5 November and
drafted a series of emergency laws, to be debated in parliament
on the 9th, which were designed to eliminate the remaining
vestiges of bourgeois democracy in Italy. The party laid plans
for Gramsci's escape to Switzerland, but he was unwilling to leave.
Newspaper reports had led him to believe that only the Aventine
deputies were in danger of losing their parliamentary immunity,
and he decided, as a communist deputy, to participate in the
debate on the new laws. He still almost certainly believed that the
internal contradictions of the Italian ruling class were such as to
make unlikely the total elimination of such residual obstacles to
the regime as still remained. Moreover, it should be remembered

INTRODUCTION

lxxxvii

that nobody in the party could have predicted either the twenty-year
sentences that the communist leaders were now to receive, nor more
importantly that the fascist regime had anything approaching such
an extended future ahead of it. But the principal reason for
Gramsci's refusal to leave Rome when his arrest must have seemed
almost certain was reported by Camilla Ravera to Togliatti:
"Antonio . . . observed that such a step should only be taken when
the workers could see for themselves that it was absolutely justified
and necessary; that leaders ought to remain in Italy until it became
quite impossible for them to do so". In an "autobiographical note"
written in prison, Gramsci confirms this: "The rule has been made
that a captain must be the last to abandon his vessel in a ship-
wreck; that he must leave only when everybody else on board is
safe. Some have even gone so far as to claim that in such cases
the captain 'must' go down with his ship. Such assertions are less
irrational than it might seem. Certainly, there may be certain cases
in which there is no reason why the captain should not save himself
first. But if such cases were made the basis for a rule, what guarantee
would there be that a captain had done everything: (i) to prevent
the shipwreck from occurring; (2) once it had occurred, to reduce
human and material losses (material losses which represent future
human losses) to a minimum? Only the 'absolute' rule that, in
case of shipwreck, the captain is the last to leave his ship, and
indeed may die with her, can provide this guarantee. Without it,
collective life would become impossible; for nobody would be
prepared to accept responsibility or continue activity which involved
putting their lives in the hands of others."

Prison

Since Gramsci's arrest effectively isolated him from events in the
outside world, we shall only give the briefest sketch of developments
in the P.C.I, and the Comintern thereafter. In 1927 and 1928,
the party was reduced to a tiny core of dedicated militants working
underground — perhaps 6,000 in 1927 and fewer still in successive
years until the lowest point was reached in 1934, when membership
was probably (according to Comintern estimates) about 2,500. The
leadership was now in exile, and in 1927 and 1928 — the years of
Bukharin's dominance in the Comintern — its nucleus consisted of
Togliatti, Grieco and Tasca. A left opposition emerged in these
years, centred on the youth organisation and its leaders
Longo and Secchia, on positions which adumbrated those of the
"third period". In ig2g came the left turn in Russia and the

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GRAMSCi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

International, and the crushing of Bukharin and the Right. Tasca,
the P.C.I, representative in Moscow, opposed it and was expelled
from the P.C.I, in the autumn; Togliatti and Grieco were won
over to the positions of Longo and the youth (causing Bordiga
reportedly to exclaim: "the party is coming back to me"). In place
of the slogans of 1927-8 — "popular revolution" against fascism;
the "transitional phase" which would follow the popular revolution ;
the "republican assembly" which should be the intermediate
objective — the leadership now spoke of the rising tide of revolution
in Italy, the imminent fall of fascism, the disappearance of the
social base for reformism, the impossibility of any transition between
fascism and the dictatorship of the proletariat; in accordance with
these theses, they proposed in March 1930 to move the party
centre back to Italy.

In late 1929 an opposition emerged inside the Political Com-
mittee. Three of its tight members — Leonetti, Tresso and Ravazzoli
— claimed that the change of line from the "right" line symbolised
by Tasca to the "left" line as propounded by Longo was oppor-
tunistic, and that a serious self-criticism was required. However,
the position of the "three" was not a very strong one tactically,
since it involved simultaneously demanding self-criticism for the
previous right line and opposing the change to the new left line.
The situation came to a head in connection with the proposal to
move the party centre back to Italy. The "three" — who were in
fact responsible respectively for the underground party organisa-
tion, for the clandestine press, and for communist trade-union
work (the C.G.L. had been dissolved by its reformist leaders, and
reconstituted under communist leadership as a clandestine organisa-
tion) — opposed this as suicidal, and counter-proposed a plan to
build up the underground organisation of a less voluntarist kind.
The "three" were narrowly defeated, and soon after established
contact with Trotsky (by now on Prinkipo) — for which they were
expelled. The whole experience of the left turn was a disastrous
one for the Italian party. The leadership was shattered; of the
eight members of the 1928 Political Committee, five were expelled
by 1931 (Tasca, the "three", and Silone — who was a moral and
political casualty of the period). Bordiga too, still formally a
member of the Central Committee although in prison, was expelled
in 1930. In addition, the militants sent back to Italy as part of the
new policy were arrested almost to a man or woman, and member-
ship inside the country as we have mentioned was reduced to
miniscule proportions by 1934, at tne enc ^ of the "left" period.

INTRODUCTION

lxxxix

After Gramsci's arrest, he was taken to the island of Ustica off
the north coast of Sicily. The six weeks he spent in detention there
were the last in which he enjoyed a relative freedom of movement
and of extended contact with other militants. Among his fellow-
prisoners was Bordiga, and the two collaborated in organising
education courses for the political detainees. Gramsci taught
history and geography and studied German: Bordiga was in
charge of the scientific side. But on 20 January 1927, Gramsci
was transferred to Milan. The journey lasted nineteen days, with
the prisoners being transported — most of the time in chains —
from prison to prison the length of the peninsula. Afler over a
year in Milan, where he was kept in almost permanent isolation,
punctuated only by the appearance of specially planted agents
provocateurs to share his cell, and with no facilities for reading or
writing other than of a' limited number of personal letters, he was
brought back to Rome to stand trial.

The trial, which began on 28 May 1928, was planned as a
political showpiece. A special tribunal had been created to judge
Gramsci, Terracini, Scoccimarro and twenty other defendants.
The prisoners were accused of organising an armed insurrection.
Legal arguments or evidence were largely irrelevant — the regime
had decided that a conviction was necessary, to be followed by
exemplary punishment. "For twenty years we must stop this brain
from functioning", declared the Public Prosecutor, pointing to
Gramsci. Sentence was passed on 4 June: twenty-two years for
Terracini, who had been the main spokesman for the prisoners;
twenty each for Gramsci, Scoccimarro and Roveda, and similarly
severe sentences for the other defendants.

On 19 July, after another nightmare journey, Gramsci arrived at
the prison of Turi, in the heel of Italy about twenty miles from
Bari, in a state of near collapse from illness and exhaustion. This
was to be his home for the next five and a half years, until his
worsening health compelled a transfer to a prison clinic at Formia.
It was here in Turi, from February 1929 onwards, that he set to
work on his Prison Notebooks. Conditions in Turi were slightly
better then they had been in Milan, if only because he was allowed
to write and to receive books (if not as many as, or all those which,
he would have wished), and because he had a limited contact with
his fellow-prisoners. On the other hand, his health was worse and
he must already have been preoccupied with the thought, however
he might try to conceal it from himself, that he might not survive
to the end of his prison term. To exacerbate his other sufferings,

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GRAMSCi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

there were the unexplained silences of Julia, who spent much of
these years in Moscow clinics with a series of nervous illnesses.
However, Julia's elder sister Tatiana had settled in Italy, and was
able to offer him some of the support which she knew that Julia
was unable to give, and to send him regular news of Julia herself
and their two children.

When Gramsci's strength permitted, he read voraciously, any-
thing he was allowed to receive. Access to Marxist texts was
restricted by prison censorship, and he was forced to supplement
his reading of the originals by reference to commentaries and
critiques. Many of the passages from Marx which occur in the
philosophical and economic sections of the Quaderni coincide with
those quoted by Benedetto Croce in his Materialismo storico ed
economia marxistica. When he could not read books he read magazines
and periodicals, thus keeping in touch with cultural developments
while at the same time using his reading as material for a critique
of bourgeois idiocy and of the confusion and backwardness of
Italian intellectual life under fascism. He wrote copiously, filling
his notebooks systematically in a small, crabbed and curiously
precise hand, transcribing quotations and practising translations as
well as developing his own thoughts.

He also wrote letters, to immediate friends and relations — to
Tatiana, to Julia, to his children (the younger of whom was born
after his arrest and whom he was never to see) and to his mother
and sisters in Sardinia. These letters are an extraordinary document
of human tenacity, and are justifiably reckoned one of the classics
of modern Italian literature. Occasionally querulous, more often
resigned, they rarely lapse into self-pity but instead are buoyed
up constantly by an urgent desire to communicate information,
ideas, projects or simply affection. Most striking of all is the sense
they give of continuing perseverance in the face of deprivation and
appalling physical suffering. Temperamentally introverted and
inclined towards stoicism, Gramsci had little to rely on except
force of will and the knowledge of belonging, even during this
period of impotence and isolation, to a revolutionary movement.
It was for this latter reason above all that, when in prison, he
obstinately refused any privilege or .special treatment that could
possibly imply recognition of dependence on favours granted by
the regime, but instead fought tooth and nail for his exact legal
rights as a political prisoner.

The one moment in those prison years when we know that
Gramsci both had some knowledge of political developments out-

INTRODUCTION

xci

side the prison (other than what he could obtain from the fascist
press) and some possibility of political discussion was in the second
half of 1930. In July, his brother Gennaro had visited him, and on
Togliatti's instructions had informed him of the opposition of the
"three" and their expulsion the month before. Gennaro reported
to Togliatti that Gramsci had been in full agreement with the
measures taken against the "three"; but years later in the sixties
he told Fiori, Gramsci's biographer, that he had lied to save his
brother from any possible condemnation by the party for "oppor-
tunism", and that in fact Gramsci had considered the opposition
of the "three" to the left turn fully justified. This account tallies
with the report sent to the party centre in 1933 by a communist
who had been a fellow-prisoner of Gramsci's — Athos Lisa. Accord-
ing to Athos Lisa, violent discussions had arisen between the
political prisoners in Turi — during their daily hour of exercise —
after Gramsci had criticised the "left" turn, the policy of "frontal
attack", and the elements of maximalism and underestimation of
the strength of the fascist regime which it involved. The discussions
had gone on for some time, with a majority of prisoners agreeing
with Gramsci, and a minority, of whom Lisa was one, supporting
the official line of the time. Among the themes outlined by Gramsci
in the course of the discussion, according to Lisa, were the following:
1. the conception of the party as the organic intellectuals of the
proletariat, indispensable if the latter is to win power; 2. the need
for a military organisation capable of taking on the power of the
bourgeois State — but a military organisation conceived of not in
narrowly technical terms, but in essentially political ones; 3. the
importance of the intermediate slogan of a "constituent assembly",
as first a means of winning allies for the proletariat in its struggle
against the ruling class, and subsequently as a terrain on which to
struggle against "all projects of peaceful reform, demonstrating to
the Italian working class how the only possible solution in Italy
resides in the proletarian revolution"; 4. the need to replace the
old Fifth World Congress slogan of the "worker and peasant
government" by that of a "republic of worker and peasant Soviets
in Italy" ; 5. the definition of fascism as a specific form of bourgeois
reaction, characterised by the increasing predominance within it of
finance capital, but whose origins are to be sought in certain specific
features of Italian historical development — the absence of a genuine
bourgeois revolution (implying not that a bourgeois revolution
remained to be completed in Italy, but that fascism itself was the
distorted Italian form of bourgeois revolution) ; the lack of class

xcii

GRAMSCi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

unity of the bourgeoisie ; the weight of the Catholic Church — and
whose immediate background was the "parallelism of forces"
following the First World War, with both the fundamental classes,
the bourgeoisie and the proletariat, too divided to defeat the other ;
6. the existence of all the objective conditions for a conquest of
power by the proletariat, but the imperative urgency — as a pre-
condition for such a conquest of power — of realising the proletariat's
hegemony over the peasantry.

It is therefore not surprising that Gramsci's letters from prison
reveal a sense of isolation that was more than simply a physical
one — but compounded terribly both by political preoccupations
and by anxiety about Julia. Increasingly, Gramsci was forced back
into himself. Much of the time, particularly towards the end of his
stay in Turi, he was too ill even to read or write. Hunchbacked,
sickly, having suffered at least three major breakdowns of his
health even when he was free and able to enjoy medical attention
and maintain a special diet, his years in prison were literally an
eleven-year death-agony. His teeth fell out, his digestive system
collapsed so that he could not eat solid food, his chronic insomnia
became permanent so that he could go weeks without more than
an hour or two of sleep at night; he had convulsions when he vomited
blood, and suffered from headaches so violent that he beat his
head against the walls of his cell. It is against this background that
the achievement of the Prison Notebooks should be seen. When first
arrested he had written to Tatiana: "I am obsessed by the idea
that I ought to do something/ar eivig ... I want, following a fixed
plan, to devote myself intensively and systematically to some subject
that will absorb me and give a focus to my inner life." His first
concern was to resist, to find a means of reacting against the
transformation of his existence that imprisonment entailed — the
switch from participation in a collective enterprise to isolation and
the danger of self-abandonment, from day-to-day struggle to a
perspective that must needs be a long-term one, from the optimism
of the will that is essential to any political activity to what must
often during Gramsci's imprisonment have come very near to
despair. The greatest danger for any political prisoner is that under
the impact of his new situation the very reasons for his past struggle
and his present plight will come to lose their validity for him.
Gramsci once wrote — commenting on some lines of poetry by a
certain Bini which said: "Prison is so finely-wrought a file, that,
tempering one's thought, it makes of it a style" — "Was Bini really
in prison? Perhaps not for long. Prison is so finely-wrought a file

INTRODUCTION

xciii

that it destroys thought utterly. It operates like the master craftsman
who was given a fine trunk of seasoned olive wood with which to
carve a statue of Saint Peter; he carved away, a piece here, a
piece there, shaped the wood roughly, modified it, corrected it — and
ended up with a handle for a cobbler's awl." Clearly, from the
beginning of his imprisonment, Gramsci decided that his struggle
was not ended. His most eloquent, and stark, vision of the new
nature of that struggle is a note which he entitled "A Dialogue".
"Something has changed, fundamentally. This is evident. What is
it ? Before, they all wanted to be the ploughmen of history, to play
the active parts, each one of them to play an active part. Nobody
wished to be the 'manure' of history. But is it possible to plough
without first manuring the land? So ploughmen and 'manure' are
both necessary. In the abstract, they all admitted it. But in practice?
Manure for manure, as well draw back, return to the shadows, into
obscurity. Now something has changed, since there are those who
adapt themselves 'philosophically' to being 'manure', who know
this is what they must be and adapt themselves. It is like the
problem of the proverbial dying man. But there is a great difference,
because at the point of death what is involved is a decisive action,
of an instant's duration. Whereas in the case of the manure, the.
problem is a long-term one, and poses itself afresh at every moment.
You only live once, as the saying goes; your own personality ia
irreplaceable. You are not faced abruptly with an instant's choice
on which to gamble, a choice in which you have to evaluate the
alternatives in a flash and cannot postpone your decision. Here
postponement is continual, and your decision has continually to be
renewed. This is why you can say that something has changed.
There is not even the choice between living for a day as a lion,
or a hundred years as a sheep. You don't live as a lion even for
a minute, far from it: you live like something far lower than a
sheep for years and years and know that you have to live like that.
Image of Prometheus who, instead of being attacked by the eagle,
is devoured by parasites. The Hebrews produced the image of Job.
Only the Greeks could have imagined Prometheus, but the Hebrews
were more realistic, more pitiless, and their hero more true to life."

As news of Grarnsci's condition filtered through to the outside
world, an international campaign was mounted in anti-fascist
circles to demand his release. The campaign, organised notably by
Piero Sraffa, a long-standing friend of Grarnsci's now living in
England, was at least partially successful. At the end of 1933,
Gramsci was transferred from Turi to a clinic at Formia, a small

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GRAMSGi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

town midway between Rome and Naples. The transfer was an
urgent medical necessity. In the last year at Turi illnesses had taken
grip of his entire organism, and he was slowly but inexorably being
killed by lack of medical attention. At Formia he began gradually
to recover somewhat, and was able to resume work on the notebooks.
Despite his perilous condition, however, and in contravention of
the fascist penal code itself, he was still held as a prisoner; his
room had been specially converted as a prison cell, and he was
harassed by brutal supervision.

The transfer to Formia had, in any case, come too late to save
him. Renewed international pressure ensured that he was at least
granted provisional liberty, in accordance with his constitutional
rights, although in point of fact this meant no more than that the
bars were removed from his window and that he was allowed to
go for walks. Eventually, in August 1935, he was moved to a
proper clinic, the "Quisisana" in Rome. He was now suffering from
arterio-sclerosis, from a tubercular infection of the back known as
Potts disease and from pulmonary tuberculosis, and was subject to
high blood-pressure, angina, gout and acute gastric disorders. His
prison sentence, less remissions, was due to expire on 21 April 1937,
after which, if his health permitted, he hoped to retire to Sardinia
for convalescence. But when the time came he was too ill to move
from the clinic, and on 27 April he died. Tatiana, while making
the funeral arrangements, managed to smuggle the thirty-three
notebooks out -of Gramsci's room and via the diplomatic bag to
Moscow. They had been "the focus to my inner life", and the
continuation in Gramsci's prison cell of his life as a revolutionary.

* * *

Some apology is perhaps needed for the unbalanced and schematic
character of this introduction, and for its inevitable lacunae. We
decided from the outset that there should be no attempt to offer
any general interpretation of Gramsci's Prison Notebooks themselves,
or any attempt to discuss the significance of his thought within
Marxism as a whole. Gramsci has perhaps suffered more than any
Marxist writer since Lenin from partial and partisan interpretation,
both by supporters and opponents; the Prison Notebooks themselves,
read seriously and in all their complexity, are the best antidote to
this. We also felt that, given limited space, we should avoid
duplicating what already exists in English — notably the biographies
of Fiori and Cammett. Other gaps — particularly a fuller account

INTRODUCTION

XCV

of the economic, political and social conflicts in Italy in the early
twenties, and of the part played in them by anti-fascist forces
other than the P.C.I. — will be filled when a selection of Gramsci's
early writings is published. We felt that it was indispensable to
give priority to the central political experience of Gramsci's life as
a revolutionary — to the class struggle in Turin, to the formation
of the Italian Communist Party, to the rise and consolidation of
fascism, to the strategic debates which took place in the P.C.I,
and in the Comintern in those years. It is this central political
experience, of course, that Gramsci was least able to write openly
about in prison, with the result that those passages of the Notebooks
where he discusses fascism, or communist strategy, are necessarily
opaque and allusive. In order to have a basis from which to interpret
these passages, it is essential to understand the political experience
upon which the Prison Notebooks are a comment and of which they
are the fruit. In a more general sense, too, the entire intellectual
enterprise represented by the Notebooks can only be evaluated in
relation to Gramsci's prior political experience; and only a grasp
of that experience makes it possible to distinguish between the
development and the critical reappraisal of earlier views.

We have tried to convey something of the calibre of the leaders
of the P.C.I, in its first years, a calibre perhaps unmatched in any
other of the Third International parties at the time. We have tried
to show that none of them had a monopoly of correct positions ;
indeed, how could they have, when the party was formed after the
defeat of the revolutionary upsurge which followed the October
Revolution and the World War, and when its foundation was
followed within two years by the fascist seizure of power — so that
its experience was in fact one of long and bitterly fought defensive
action, against overwhelming odds? We have tried to show that
Tasca had a more realistic appreciation than either the Left or the
Centre of the full significance of fascism, and that Bordiga had a
fuller and earlier awareness than either the Centre or the Right of
the implications for individual communist parties of events in
Russia and in the International generally. We have also tried to
show how Gramsci, in the brief period in which he led the P.C.I.,
successfully combated the maximalism, sectarianism and economism
of Bordiga and the pessimism, "liquidationism" and culturalism of
Tasca, while seeking to develop a genuinely Leninist political practice
— both in terms of intra-party norms and of responsiveness to the
spontaneous activity of the masses. Both Bordiga and Tasca failed
to understand the dialectical relation between vanguard party and

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GRAMSCi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

mass spontaneity : Bordiga saw the party as an elite which must above
all guard itself against any contamination of its "pure" principles.
Tasca, on the other hand, never understood the qualitative difference
between the Leninist party and the parties of the Second International.
Moreover, both were united in their suspicion of the factory
councils in 1919-20. Gramsci's strategy, in contrast, turned entirely
on the creation of autonomous class organisations of the proletariat
and peasantry — in continuity with the conceptions of Ordine Nuovo,
but now in dialectical relation with a vanguard party which alone
could organise the taking of power and fight for revolution within
the class organisms. This is the background against which the
Prison Notebooks must be read.

I

PROBLEMS OF
HISTORY AND CULTURE

I

THE INTELLECTUALS

INTRODUCTION

The central argument of Gramsci's essay on the formation of the
intellectuals is simple. The notion of "the intellectuals" as a distinct
social category independent of class is a myth. All men are potentially
intellectuals in the sense of having an intellect and using it, but
not all are intellectuals by social function. Intellectuals in the
functional sense fall into two groups. In the first place there are the
"traditional" professional intellectuals, literary, scientific and so on,
whose position in the interstices of society has a certain inter-class
aura about it but derives ultimately from past and present class
relations and conceals an attachment to various historical class
formations. Secondly, there are the "organic" intellectuals, the
thinking and organising element of a particular fundamental social
class. These organic intellectuals are distinguished less by their
profession, which may be any job characteristic of their class, than
bv their function in directing the ideas and aspirations of the class
to which they organically belong.

The implications of this highly original schema bear on all aspects
of Gramsci's thought. Philosophically they connect with the
proposition (p. 323) that "all men are philosophers" and with
Gramsci's whole discussion of the dissemination of philosophical
ideas and of ideology within a given culture. They relate to Gramsci's
ideas on Education (pp. 26-43) m their stress on the democratic
character of the intellectual function, but also on the class character
of the formation of intellectuals through school. They also underlie
his study of history and particularly of the Risorgimento, in that the
intellectuals, in the wide sense of the word, are seen by Gramsci
as performing an essential mediating function in the struggle of
class forces.

Most important of all, perhaps, are the implications for the
political struggle. Social Democracy, following Kautsky, has
tended to see the relationship between workers and intellectuals in
the Socialist movement in formal and mechanistic terms, with the
intellectuals — refugees from the bourgeois class — providing theory
and ideology (and often leadership) for a mass base of non-
intellectuals, i.e. workers. This division of labour within the move-
ment was vigorously contested by Lenin, who declares, in What is
to be Dory, that in the revolutionary party "all distinctions as

4

GRAMSCi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

between workers and intellectuals . . . must be obliterated". Lenin's
attitude to the problem of the intellectuals is closely connected with
his theory of the vanguard party, and when he writes about the
need for socialist consciousness to be brought to the working class
from outside, the agency he foresees for carrying this out is not the
traditional intelligentsia but the revolutionary party itself, in which
former workers and former professional intellectuals of bourgeois
origin have been fused into a single cohesive unit. Gramsci develops
this Leninist schema in a new way, relating it to the problems of
the working class as a whole. The working class, like the bourgeoisie
before it, is capable of developing from within its ranks its own
organic intellectuals, and the function of the political party, whether
mass or vanguard, is that of channelling the activity of these
organic intellectuals and providing a link between the class and
certain sections of the traditional intelligentsia. The organic
intellectuals of the working class are defined on the one hand by
their role in production and in the organisation of work and on the
other by their "directive" political role, focused on the Party. It
is through this assumption of conscious responsibility, aided by
absorption of ideas and personnel from the more advanced bourgeois
intellectual strata, that the proletariat can escape from defensive
corporatism and economism and advance towards hegemony.

THE INTELLECTUALS

THE FORMATION OF THE INTELLECTUALS

Are intellectuals an autonomous and independent social group, or
does every social group have its own particular specialised category
of intellectuals? The problem is a complex one, because of the
variety of forms assumed to date by the real historical process of
formation of the different categories of intellectuals.
The most important of these forms are two :

I. Every social group, coming into existence on the original
terrain of an essential function in the world of economic production,
creates together with itself, organically, one or more strata 1 of
intellectuals which give it homogeneity and an awareness of its own
function not only in the economic but also in the social and political
fields. The capitalist entrepreneur creates alongside himself the
industrial technician, the specialist in political economy, the
organisers of a new culture, of a new legal system, etc. It should be
noted that the entrepreneur himself represents a higher level of
social elaboration, already characterised by a certain directive
[dirigente] 2 and technical (i.e. intellectual) capacity: he must have
a certain technical capacity, not only in the limited sphere of his
activity and initiative but in other spheres as well, at least in those
which are closest to economic production. He must be an organiser
of masses of men; he must be an organiser of the "confidence" of
investors in his business, of the customers for his product, etc.

If not all entrepreneurs, at least an elite amongst them must have
the capacity to be an organiser of society in general, including all
its complex organism of services, right up to the state organism,
because of the need to create the conditions most favourable to the

1 The Italian word here is "ceti" which does not carry quite the same con-
notations as "strata", but which we have been forced to translate in that way for
lack of alternatives. It should be noted that Gramsci tends, for reasons of censor-
ship, to avoid using the word class in contexts where its Marxist overtones would
be apparent, preferring (as for example in this sentence) the more neutral "social
group". The word "group", however, is not always a euphemism for "class", and
to avoid ambiguity Gramsci uses the phrase "fundamental social group" when he
wishes to emphasise the fact that he is referring to one or other of the major social
classes (bourgeoisie, proletariat) defined in strict Marxist terms by its position in
the fundamental relations of production. Class groupings which do not have this
fundamental role are often described as "castes" (aristocracy, etc.). The word
"category", on the other hand, which also occurs on this page, Gramsci tends to
use in the standard Italian sense of members of a trade or profession, though
also more generally. Throughout this edition we have rendered Gramsci's usage
as literally as possible (see note on Gramsci's Terminology, p. xiii).

* See note on Gramsci's Terminology.

6

GRAMSCi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

expansion of their own class; or at the least they must possess the
capacity to choose the deputies (specialised employees) to whom to
entrust this activity of organising the general system of relationships
external to the business itself. It can be observed that the "organic"
intellectuals which every new class creates alongside itself and
elaborates in the course of its development, are for the most part
"specialisations" of partial aspects of the primitive activity of the
new social type which the new class has brought into prominence.*

Even feudal lords were possessors of a particular technical
capacity, military capacity, and it is precisely from the moment at
which the aristocracy loses its monopoly of technico-military
capacity that the crisis of feudalism begins. But the formation of
intellectuals in the feudal world and in the preceding classical
world is a question to be examined separately: this formation and
elaboration follows ways and means which must be studied con-
cretely. Thus it is to be noted that the mass of the peasantry,
although it performs an essential function in the world of production,
does not elaborate its own "organic" intellectuals, nor does it
"assimilate" any stratum of "traditional" intellectuals, although it
is from the peasantry that other social groups draw many of their
intellectuals and a high proportion of traditional intellectuals are
of peasant origin. 4

2. However, every "essential" social group which emerges into
history out of the preceding economic structure, and as an expression

* Mosca's Elementi di Scienza Politico (new expanded edition, 1923) are worth
looking at in this connection. Mosca's so-called "political class"* is nothing other
than the intellectual category of the dominant social group. Mosca's concept of
"political class" can be connected with Pareto's concept of the ilite, which is
another attempt to interpret the historical phenomenon of the intellectuals and
their function in the life of the state and of society. Mosca's book is an enormous
hotch-potch, of a sociological and positivistic character, plus the tendentiousness
of immediate politics which makes it less indigestible and livelier from a literary
point of view.

8 Usually translated in English as "ruling class", which is also the title of the
English version of Mosca's Elementi (G. Mosca, The Ruling Class, New York 1939).
Gaetano Mosca (1858-1941) was, together with Pareto and Michels, one of the
major early Italian exponents of the theory of political (lites. Although sym-
pathetic to fascism, Mosca was basically a conservative, who saw the ilite in
rather more static terms than did some of his fellows.

4 Notably in Southern Italy. See below, "The Different Position of Urban and
Rural-type Intellectuals", pp. 14-23. Gramsci's general argument, here as else-
where in the Quademi, is that the person of peasant origin who becomes an
"intellectual" (priest, lawyer, etc.) generally thereby ceases to be organically
linked to his class of origin. One of the essential differences between, say, the
Catholic Church and the revolutionary party of the working class lies in the
fact that, ideally, the proletariat should be able to generate its own "organic"
intellectuals within the class and who remain intellectuals of their class.

THE INTELLECTUALS

7

of a development of this structure, has found (at least in all of history
up to the present) categories of intellectuals already in existence
and which seemed indeed to represent an historical continuity
uninterrupted even by the most complicated and radical changes
in political and social forme.

The most typical of these categories of intellectuals is that of the
ecclesiastics, who for a long time (for a whole phase of history,
which is pardy characterised by this very monopoly) held a
monopoly of a number of important services : religious ideology,
that is the philosophy and science of the age, together with schools,
education, morality, justice, charity, good works, etc. The category
of ecclesiastics can be considered the category of intellectuals
organically bound to the landed aristocracy. It had equal status
juridically with the aristocracy, with which it shared the exercise
of feudal ownership of land, and the use of state privileges connected
with property.* But the monopoly held by the ecclesiastics in the
superstructural field** was not exercised without a struggle or
without limitations, and hence there took place the birth, in various
forms (to be gone into and studied concretely), of other categories,
favoured and enabled to expand by the growing strength of the
central power of the monarch, right up to absolutism. Thus we
find the formation of the noblesse de robe, with its own privileges, a
stratum of administrators, etc., scholars and scientists, theorists,
non-ecclesiastical philosophers, etc.

Since these various categories of traditional intellectuals experience
through an "esprit de corps" their uninterrupted historical continuity
and their special qualification, they thus put themselves forward as
autonomous and independent of the dominant social group. This
self-assessment is not without consequences in the ideological and
political field, consequences of wide-ranging import. The whole of

* For one category of these intellectuals, possibly the most important after the
ecclesiastical for its prestige and the social function it performed in primitive
societies, the category otmedical men in the wide sense, that is all those who "struggle"
or seem to struggle against death and disease, compare the Storia della medicina of
Arturo Castiglioni. Note that there has been a connection between religion and
medicine, and in certain areas there still is : hospitals in the hands of religious
orders for certain organisational functions, apart from the fact that wherever the
doctor appears, so does the priest (exorcism, various forms of assistance, etc.)-
Many great religious figures were and are conceived of as great "healers" : the
idea of miracles, up to the resurrection of the dead. Even in the case of kings the
belief long survived that they could heal with the laying on of hands, etc.

** From this has come the general sense of "intellectual" or "specialist" of
the word "chierico" (clerk, cleric) in many languages of romance origin or heavily
influenced, through church Latin, by the romance languages, together with its
correlative "lako" (lay, layman) in the sense of profane, non-specialist.

8

GRAMSGi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

idealist philosophy can easily be connected with this position assumed
by the social complex of intellectuals and can be defined as the
expression of that social Utopia by which the intellectuals think of
themselves as "independent", autonomous, endowed with a
character of their own, etc.

One should note however that if the Pope and the leading
hierarchy of the Church consider themselves more linked to Christ
and to the apostles than they are to senators Agnelli and Benni, 5
the same does not hold for Gentile and Croce, for example: Croce
in particular feels himself closely linked to Aristotle and Plato, but
he does not conceal, on the other hand, his links with senators
Agnelli and Benni, and it is precisely here that one can discern the
most significant character of Croce's philosophy.

What are the "maximum" limits of acceptance of the term
"intellectual"? Can one find a unitary criterion to characterise
equally all the diverse and disparate activities of intellectuals and
to distinguish these at the same time and in an essential way from
the activities of other social groupings ? The most widespread error
of method seems to me that of having looked for this criterion of
distinction in the intrinsic nature of intellectual activities, rather
than in the ensemble of the system of relations in which these
activities (and therefore the intellectual groups who personify them)
have their place within the general complex of social relations.
Indeed the worker or proletarian, for example, is not specifically
characterised by his manual or instrumental work, but by performing
this work in specific conditions and in specific social relations
(apart from the consideration that purely physical labour does not
exist and that even Taylor's phrase of "trained gorilla" 6 is a meta-
phor to indicate a limit in a certain direction: in any physical work,
even the most degraded and mechanical, there exists a minimum
of technical qualification, that is, a minimum of creative intellectual
activity.) And we have already observed that the entrepreneur, by
virtue of his very function, must have to some degree a certain
number of qualifications of an intellectual nature although his
part in society is determined not by these, but by the general social
relations which specifically characterise the position of the entre-
preneur within industry.

8 Heads of fiat and Montecatini (Chemicals) respectively For Agnelli, of
whom Gramsci had direct experience during the Or dine Nuovo period, see note
II on p. 286.

' For Frederick Taylor and his notion of the manual worker as a "trained
gorilla", see Gramsci's essay Americanism and Fordism, pp. 277-318 of this volume.

THE INTELLECTUALS

9

All men are intellectuals, one could therefore say: but not all
men have in society the function of intellectuals.*

When one distinguishes between intellectuals and non-
intellectuals, one is referring in reality only to the immediate social
function of the professional category of the intellectuals, that is, one
has in mind the direction in which their specific professional
activity is weighted, whether towards intellectual elaboration or
towards muscular-nervous effort. This means that, although one
can speak of intellectuals, one cannot speak of non-intellectuals,
because non-intellectuals do not exist. But even the relationship
between efforts of intellectual-cerebral elaboration and muscular-
nervous effort is not always the same, so that there are varying
degrees of specific intellectual activity. There is no human activity
from which every form of intellectual participation can be excluded :
homo faber cannot be separated from homo sapiens.'' Each man,
finally, outside his professional activity, carries on some form of
intellectual activity, that is, he is a "philosopher", an artist, a man
of taste, he participates in a particular conception of the world, has
a conscious line of moral conduct, and therefore contributes to
sustain a conception of the world or to modify it, that is, to bring
into being new modes of thought.

The problem of creating a new stratum of intellectuals consists
therefore in the critical elaboration of the intellectual activity that
exists in everyone at a certain degree of development, modifying its
relationship with the muscular-nervous effort towards a new
equilibrium, and ensuring that the muscular-nervous effort itself,
in so far as it is an element of a general practical activity, which is
perpetually innovating the physical and social world, becomes the
foundation of a new and integral conception of the world. The
traditional and vulgarised type of the intellectual is given by the
man of letters, the philosopher, the artist. Therefore journalists,
who claim to be men of letters, philosophers, artists, also regard
themselves as the "true" intellectuals. In the modern world,
technical education, closely bound to industrial labour even at the
most primitive and unqualified level, must form the basis of the
new type of intellectual.

On this basis the weekly Ordine Nuovcfi worked to develop certain

* Thus, because it can happen that everyone at some time fries a couple of
eggs or sews up a tear in a jacket, we do not necessarily say that everyone is a
cook or a tailor.

' i.e. Man the maker (or tool-bearer) and Man the thinker.

* The Ordine Jfuovo, the magazine edited by Gramsci during his days as a

10

GRAMSCi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

forms of new intellectualism and to determine its new concepts,
and this was not the least of the reasons for its success, since such a
conception corresponded to latent aspirations and conformed to the
development of the real forms of life. The mode of being of the
new intellectual can no longer consist in eloquence, which is an
exterior and momentary mover of feelings and passions, but in
active participation in practical life, as constructor, organiser,
"permanent persuader" and not just a simple orator (but superior
at the same time to the abstract mathematical spirit) ; from tech-
nique-as-work one proceeds to technique-as-science and to the
humanistic conception of history, without which one remains
"specialised" and does not become "directive" 9 (specialised and
political).

Thus there are historically formed specialised categories for the
exercise of the intellectual function. They are formed in connection
with all social groups, but especially in connection with the more
important, and they undergo more extensive and complex elabora-
tion in connection with the dominant social group. One of the most
important characteristics of any group that is developing towards
dominance is its struggle to assimilate and to conquer "ideologically"
the traditional intellectuals, but this assimilation and conquest is
made quicker and more efficacious the more the group in question
succeeds in simultaneously elaborating its own organic intellectuals.

The enormous development of activity and organisation of
education in the broad sense in the societies that emerged from the
medieval world is an index of the importance assumed in the modern
world by intellectual functions and categories. Parallel with the
attempt to deepen and to broaden the "intellectuality" of each
individual, there has also been an attempt to multiply and narrow
the various specialisations. This can be seen from educational
institutions at all levels, up to and including the organisms that
exist to promote so-called "high culture" in all fields of science and
technology.

School is the instrument through which intellectuals of various
levels are elaborated. The complexity of the intellectual function in
different states can be measured objectively by the number and

militant in Turin, ran as a "weekly review of Socialist culture" in 1919 and 1920.
See Introduction, pp. xxxv ff.

* "Dirigente." This extremely condensed and elliptical sentence contains a
number of key Gramscian ideas : on the possibility of proletarian cultural hegemony
through domination of the work process, on the distinction between organic
intellectuals of the working class and traditional intellectuals from outside, on the
unity of theory and practice as a basic Marxist postulate, etc.

THE INTELLECTUALS II

gradation of specialised schools: the more extensive the "area"
covered by education and the more numerous the "vertical"
"levels" of schooling, the more complex is the cultural world, the
civilisation, of a particular state. A point of comparison can be found
in the sphere of industrial technology: the industrialisation of a
country can be measured by how well equipped it is in the produc-
tion of machines with which to produce machines, and in the
manufacture of ever more accurate instruments for making both
machines and further instruments for making machines, etc. The
country which is best equipped in the construction of instruments for
experimental scientific laboratories and in the construction of
instruments with which to test the first instruments, can be regarded
as the most complex in the technical-industrial field, with the
highest level of civilisation, etc. The same applies to the preparation
of intellectuals and to the schools dedicated to this preparation;
schools and institutes of high culture can be assimilated to each
other. In this field also, quantity cannot be separated from quality.
To the most refined technical-cultural specialisation there cannot
but correspond the maximum possible diffusion of primary educa-
tion and the maximum care taken to expand the middle grades
numerically as much as possible. Naturally this need to provide
the widest base possible for the selection and elaboration of the top
intellectual qualifications — i.e. to give a democratic structure to
high culture and top-level technology — is not without its dis-
advantages: it creates the possibility of vast crises of unemployment
for the middle intellectual strata, and in all modern societies this
actually takes place.

It is worth noting that the elaboration of intellectual strata in
concrete reality does not take place on the terrain of abstract
democracy but in accordance with very concrete traditional
historical processes. Strata have grown up which traditionally
"produce" intellectuals and these strata coincide with those which
have specialised in "saving", i.e. the petty and middle landed
bourgeoisie and certain strata of the petty and middle urban
bourgeoisie. The varying distribution of different types of school
(classical and professional) 10 over the "economic" territory and the
varying aspirations of different categories within these strata
determine, or give form to, the production of various branches of

10 The Italian school system above compulsory level is based on a division
between academic ("classical" and "scientific") education and vocational training
for professional purposes. Technical and, at the academic level, "scientific
colleges tend to be concentrated in the Northern industrial areas.

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intellectual specialisation. Thus in Italy the rural bourgeoisie
produces in particular state functionaries and professional people,
whereas the urban bourgeoisie produces technicians for industry.
Consequently it is largely northern Italy which produces technicians
and the South which produces functionaries and professional
men.

The relationship between the intellectuals and the world of
production is not as direct as it is with the fundamental social
groups but is, in varying degrees, "mediated" by the whole fabric
of society and by the complex of superstructures, of which the
intellectuals are, precisely, the "functionaries". It should be possible
both to measure the "organic quality" [organicita] of the various
intellectual strata and their degree of connection with a fundamental
social group, and to establish a gradation of their functions and of
the superstructures from the bottom to the top (from the structural
base upwards). What we can do, for the moment, is to fix two
major superstructural "levels": the one that can be called "civil
society", that is the ensemble of organisms commonly called
"private", and that of "political society" or "the State". These
two levels correspond on the one hand to the function of "hegemony"
which the dominant group exercises throughout society and on the
other hand to that of "direct domination" or command exercised
through the State and "juridical" government. The functions in
question are precisely organisational and connective. The intel-
lectuals are the dominant group's "deputies" exercising the sub-
altern functions of social hegemony and political government.
These comprise :

1. The "spontaneous" consent given by the great masses of the
population to the general direction imposed on social life by the
dominant fundamental group; this consent is "historically" caused
by the prestige (and consequent confidence) which the dominant
group enjoys because of its position and function in the world of
production.

2. The apparatus of state coercive power which "legally" enforces
discipline on those groups who do not "consent" either actively or
passively. This apparatus is, however, constituted for the whole of
society in anticipation of moments of crisis of command and
direction when spontaneous consent has failed.

This way of posing the problem has as a result a considerable
extension of the concept of intellectual, but it is the only way which
enables one to reach a concrete approximation of reality. It also
clashes with preconceptions of caste. The function of organising

THE INTELLECTUALS

T 3

social hegemony and state domination certainly gives rise to a
particular division of labour and therefore to a whole hierarchy of
qualifications in some of which there is no apparent attribution of
directive or organisational functions. For example, in the apparatus
of social and state direction there exist a whole series of jobs of a
manual and instrumental character (non-executive work, agents
rather than officials or functionaries). 11 It is obvious that such a
distinction has to be made just as it is obvious that other distinctions
have to be made as well. Indeed, intellectual activity must also be
distinguished in terms of its intrinsic characteristics, according to
levels which in moments of extreme opposition represent a real
qualitative difference — at the highest level would be the creators of
the various sciences, philosophy, art, etc., at the lowest the most
humble "administrators" and divulgators of pre-existing, traditional,
accumulated intellectual wealth.*

In the modern world the category of intellectuals, understood in
this sense, has undergone an unprecedented expansion. The
democratic-bureaucratic system has given rise to a great mass of
functions which are not all justified by the social necessities
of production, though they are justified by the political necessities
of the dominant fundamental group. Hence Loria's 13 conception of
the unproductive "worker" (but unproductive in relation to whom
and to what mode of production?), a conception which could in
part be justified if one takes account of the fact that these masses
exploit their position to take for themselves a large cut out of the
national income. Mass formation has standardised individuals both
psychologically and in terms of individual qualification and has
produced the same phenomena as with other standardised masses:
competition which makes necessary organisations for the defence of

11 "Junzionari" : in Italian usage the word is applied to the middle and higher
echelons of the bureaucracy. Conversely "administrators" ("amministratori") is
used here (end of paragraph) to mean people who merely "administer" the decisions
of others. The phrase "non-executive work" is a translation of "[impiego] di ordine
e non di concetto" which refers to distinctions within clerical work.

* Here again military organisation offers a model of complex gradations
between subaltern officers, senior officers and general staff, not to mention the
NCO's, whose importance is greater than is generally admitted. It is worth
observing that all these parts feel a solidarity and indeed that it is the lower strata
that display the most blatant esprit de corps, from which they derive a certain
"conceit" 12 which is apt to lay them open to jokes and witticisms.

11 "boria". This is a reference to an idea of Vico (see note 41 on p. 151).

19 For Loria see note 108 on p. 458. The notion of the "unproductive labourer"
is not in fact an invention of Loria's but has its origins in Marx's definitions of
productive and unproductive labour in Capital, which Loria, in his characteristic
way, both vulgarised and claimed as his own discovery.

14 GRAMSCi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

professions, unemployment, over-production in the schools, emigra-
tion, etc.

THE DIFFERENT POSITION OF URBAN AND RURAL-TYPE
INTELLECTUALS

Intellectuals of the urban type have grown up along with industry
and are linked to its fortunes. Their function can be compared to
that of subaltern officers in the army. They have no autonomous
initiative in elaborating plans for construction. Their job is to
articulate the relationship between the entrepreneur and the
instrumental mass and to carry out the immediate execution of the
production plan decided by the industrial general staff, controlling
the elementary stages of work. On the whole the average urban
intellectuals are very standardised, while the top urban intellectuals
are more and more identified with the industrial general staff
itself.

Intellectuals of the rural type are for the most part "traditional",
that is they are linked to the social mass of country people and the
town (particularly small-town) petite bourgeoisie, not as yet elabor-
ated and set in motion by the capitalist system. This type of intel-
lectual brings into contact the peasant masses with the local and
state administration (lawyers, notaries, etc.) . Because of this activity
they have an important politico-social function, since professional
mediation is difficult to separate from political. Furthermore: in
the countryside the intellectual (priest, lawyer, notary, teacher,
doctor, etc.), has on the whole a higher or at least a different living
standard from that of the average peasant and consequently
represents a social model for the peasant to look to in his aspiration
to escape from or improve his condition. The peasant always
thinks that at least one of his sons could become an intellectual
(especially a priest), thus becoming a gentleman and raising the
social level of the family by facilitating its economic life through the
connections which he is bound to acquire with the rest of the gentry.
The peasant's attitude towards the intellectual is double and
appears contradictory. He respects the social position of the intel-
lectuals and in general that of state employees, but sometimes
affects contempt for it, which means that his admiration is mingled
with instinctive elements of envy and impassioned anger. One can
understand nothing of the collective life of the peasantry and of the
germs and ferments of development which exist within it, if one
does not take into consideration and examine concretely and in

THE INTELLECTUALS 1 5

depth this effective subordination to the intellectuals. Every organic
development of the peasant masses, up to a certain point, is linked
to and depends on movements among the intellectuals.

With the urban intellectuals it is another matter. Factory tech-
nicians do not exercise any political function over the instrumental
masses, or at least this is a phase that has been superseded. Some-
times, rather, the contrary takes place, and the instrumental masses,
at least in the person of their own organic intellectuals, exercise a
political influence on the technicians.

The central point of the question remains the distinction between
intellectuals as an organic category of every fundamental social
group and intellectuals as a traditional category. From this dis-
tinction there flow a whole series of problems and possible questions
for historical research.

The most interesting problem is that which, when studied from
this point of view, relates to the modern political party, its real
origins, its developments and the forms which it takes. What is the
character of the political party in relation to the problem of the
intellectuals ? Some distinctions must be made :

1. The political party for some social groups is nothing other than
their specific way of elaborating their own category of organic
intellectuals directly in the political and philosophical field and not
just in the field of productive technique. These intellectuals are
formed in this way and cannot indeed be formed in any other way,
given the general character and the conditions of formation, life
and development of the social group.*

2. The political party, for all groups, is precisely the mechanism
which carries out in civil society the same function as the State
carries out, more synthetically and over a larger scale, in political
society. In other words it is responsible for welding together the
organic intellectuals of a given group — the dominant one — and the
traditional intellectuals. 14 The party carries out this function in
strict dependence on its basic function, which is that of elaborating
its own component parts — those elements of a social group which

* Within productive technique those strata are formed which can be said to
correspond to NCO's in the army, that is to say, for the town, skilled and specialised
workers and, for the country (in a more complex fashion) share-cropping and
tenant farmers —since in general terms these types of farmer correspond more or
less to the type of the artisan, who is the skilled worker of a mediaeval economy.

14 Although this passage is ostensibly concerned with the sociology of political
parties in general, Gramsci is clearly particularly interested here in the theory
of the revolutionary party and the role within it of the intellectuals. See Intro-
duction to this Section.

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has been born and developed as an "economic" group — and of
turning them into qualified political intellectuals, leaders [dirigenti]
and organisers of all the activities and functions inherent in the
organic development of an integral society, both civil and political.
Indeed it can be said that within its field the political party accom-
plishes its function more completely and organically than the State
does within its admittedly far larger field. An intellectual who joins
the political party of a particular social group is merged with the
organic intellectuals of the group itself, and is linked tightly with
the group. This takes place through participation in the life of the
State only to a limited degree and often not at all. Indeed it happens
that many intellectuals think that they are the State, a belief which,
given the magnitude of the category, occasionally has important
consequences and leads to unpleasant complications for the funda-
mental economic group which really is the State.

That all members of a political party should be regarded as
intellectuals is an affirmation that can easily lend itself to mockery
and caricature. But if one thinks about it nothing could be more
exact. There are of course distinctions of level to be made. A party
might have a greater or lesser proportion of members in the higher
grades or in the lower, but this is not the point. What matters is
the function, which is directive and organisational, i.e. educative,
i.e. intellectual. A tradesman does not join a political party in
order to do business, nor an industrialist in order to produce more
at lower cost, nor a peasant to learn new methods of cultivation,
even if some aspects of these demands of the tradesman, the
industrialist or the peasant can find satisfaction in the party.*

For these purposes, within limits, there exists the professional
association, in which the economic-corporate activity of the trades-
man, industrialist or peasant is most suitably promoted. In the
political party the elements of an economic social group get beyond
that moment of their historical development and become agents of
more general activities of a national and international character.
This function of a political party should emerge even more clearly
from a concrete historical analysis of how both organic and tradi-
tional categories of intellectuals have developed in the context of
different national histories and in that of the development of the
various major social groups within each nation, particularly those
groups whose economic activity has been largely instrumental.

* Common opinion tends to oppose this, maintaining that the tradesman,
industrialist or peasant who engages in "politicking" loses rather than gains, and
is the worst type of all which is debatable.

THE INTELLECTUALS 17

The formation of traditional intellectuals is the most interesting
problem historically. It is undoubtedly connected with slavery in
the classical world and with the position of freed men of Greek or
Oriental origin in the social organisation of the Roman Empire.

Note. The change in the condition of the social position of the
intellectuals in Rome between Republican and Imperial times (a
change from an aristocratic-corporate to a democratic-bureau-
cratic regime) is due to Caesar, who granted citizenship to doctors
and to masters of liberal arts so that they would be more willing
to live in Rome and so that others should be persuaded to come
there. ("Omnesque medicinam Romae prqfessos et liberalium artium
doctores, quo libentitis et ispi urbem incolerent et coeteri appeterent civitate
donavit." Suetonius, Life of Caesar, XLII.) Caesar therefore
proposed: i. to establish in Rome those intellectuals who were
already there, thus creating a permanent category of intellectuals,
since without their permanent residence there no cultural
organisation could be created; and 2. to attract to Rome the
best intellectuals from all over the Roman Empire, thus promoting
centralisation on a massive scale. In this way there came into
being the category of "imperial" intellectuals in Rome which
was to be continued by the Catholic clergy and to leave so many
traces in the history of Italian intellectuals, such as their char-
acteristic "cosmopolitanism", up to the eighteenth century.

This not only social but national and racial separation between
large masses of intellectuals and the dominant class of the Roman
Empire is repeated after the fall of the Empire in the division
between Germanic warriors and intellectuals of romanised origin,
successors of the category of freedmen. Interweaved with this
phenomenon are the birth and development of Catholicism and of
the ecclesiastical organisation which for many centuries absorbs the
major part of intellectual activities and exercises a monopoly of
cultural direction with penal sanctions against anyone who attempted
to oppose or even evade the monopoly. In Italy we can observe
the phenomenon, whose intensity varies from period to period, of
the cosmopolitan function of the intellectuals of the peninsula. I
shall now turn to the differences which are instantly apparent in
the development of the intellectuals in a number of the more
important countries, with the proviso that these observations
require to be controlled and examined in more depth.

As far as Italy is concerned the central fact is precisely the
international or cosmopolitan function of its intellectuals, which is

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both cause and effect of the state of disintegration in which the
peninsula remained from the fall of the Roman Empire up to 1870.

France offers the example of an accomplished form of harmonious
development of the energies of the nation and of the intellectual
categories in particular. When in 1789 a new social grouping makes
its political appearance on the historical stage, it is already com-
pletely equipped for all its social functions and can therefore
struggle for total dominion of the nation. It does not have to make
any essential compromises with the old classes but instead can
subordinate them to its own ends. The first intellectual cells of the
new type are born along with their first economic counterparts.
Even ecclesiastical organisation is influenced (gallicanism, pre-
cocious struggles between Church and State). This massive intel-
lectual construction explains the function of culture in France in
the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. It was a function of
international and cosmopolitan outward radiation and of imperial-
istic and hegemonic expansion in an organic fashion, very different
therefore from the Italian experience, which was founded on
scattered personal migration and did not react on the national base
to potentiate it but on the contrary contributed to rendering the
constitution of a solid national base impossible.

In England the development is very different from France. The
new social grouping that grew up on the basis of modern indus-
trialism shows a remarkable economic-corporate development but
advances only gropingly in the intellectual-political field. There
is a very extensive category of organic intellectuals — those, that is,
who come into existence on the same industrial terrain as the
economic group — but in the higher sphere we find that the old
land-owning class preserves its position of virtual monopoly. It
loses its economic supremacy but maintains for a long time a
politico-intellectual supremacy and is assimilated as "traditional
intellectuals" and as directive \dirigente] group by the new group
in power. The old land-owning aristocracy is joined to the indus-
trialists by a kind of suture which is precisely that which in other
countries unites the traditional intellectuals with the new dominant
classes.

The English phenomenon appears also in Germany, but com-
plicated by other historical and traditional elements. Germany,
like Italy, was the seat of an universalistic and supranational
institution and ideology, the Holy Roman Empire of the German
Nation, and provided a certain number of personnel for the mediaeval
cosmopolis, impoverishing its own internal energies and arousing

THE INTELLECTUALS

'9

struggles which distracted from problems of national organisation
and perpetuated the territorial disintegration of the Middle Ages.
Industrial development took place within a semi-feudal integument
that persisted up to November 1918, and the Junkers preserved a
politico-intellectual supremacy considerably greater even than that
of the corresponding group in England. They were the traditional
intellectuals of the German industrialists, but retained special
privileges and a strong consciousness of being an independent social
group, based on the fact that they held considerable economic
power over the land, which was more "productive" 16 than in
England. The Prussian Junkers resemble a priestly-military caste,
with a virtual monopoly of directive-organisational functions in
political society, but possessing at the same time an economic base
of its own and so not exclusively dependent on the liberality of the
dominant economic group. Furthermore, unlike the English land-
owning aristocracy, the Junkers constituted the officer class of a
large standing army, which gave them solid organisational cadres
favouring the preservation of an esprit de corps and of their political
monopoly.*

InRussia various features: the politicaland econoinico-commercial
organisation was created by the Norman (Varangians), and religious
organisation by the Byzantine Greeks. In a later period the Germans
and the French brought to Russia the European experience and
gave a first consistent skeleton to the protoplasm of Russian history.
National forces were inert, passive and receptive, but perhaps
precisely for this reason they assimilated completely the foreign
influences and the foreigners themselves, Russifying them. In the
more recent historical period we find the opposite phenomenon.
An elite consisting of some of the most active, energetic, enterprising
and disciplined members of the society emigrates abroad and
assimilates the culture and historical experiences of the most advanced

15 Gramsci is probably using the word "productive" here in the specifically
Marxian sense of productive of surplus value or at any rate of surplus.

* In Max Weber's book, Parliament and Government in the New Order in Germany 1 *
can be found a number of elements to show how the political monopoly of the
nobility impeded the elaboration of an extensive and experienced bourgeois
political personnel and how it is at the root of the continual parliamentary crises
and of the fragmentation of the liberal and democratic parties. Hence the import-
ance of the Catholic centre and of Social democracy, which succeeded during the
period of the Empire 1 ' in building up to a considerable extent their own parlia-
mentary and directive strata, etc.

18 Max Weber, Parlament und Regienmg im neugeordnetem Deutschland. English
translation in From Max Weber: Essays in Sociology, ed. H. H. Gerth and C. Wright
Mills.

" i.e. up to the formation of the Weimar Republic in 1919.

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countries of the West, without however losing the most essential
characteristics of its own nationality, that is to say without breaking
its sentimental and historical links with its own people. Having
thus performed its intellectual apprenticeship it returns to its own
country and compels the people to an enforced awakening, skipping
historical stages in the process. The difference between this elite and
that imported from Germany (by Peter the Great, for example)
lies in its essentially national-popular character. It could not be
assimilated by the inert passivity of the Russian people, because it
was itself an energetic reaction of Russia to her own historical
inertia.

On another terrain, and in very different conditions of time and
place, the Russian phenomenon can be compared to the birth of
the American nation (in the United States). The Anglo-Saxon
immigrants are themselves an intellectual, but more especially a
moral, elite. I am talking, naturally, of the first immigrants, the
pioneers, protagonists of the political and religious struggles in
England, defeated but not humiliated or laid low in their country
of origin. They import into America, together with themselves,
apart from moral energy and energy of the will, a certain level of
civilisation, a certain stage of European historical evolution, which,
when transplanted by such men into the virgin soil of America,
continues to develop the forces implicit in its nature but with an
incomparably more rapid rhythm than in Old Europe, where there
exists a whole series of checks (moral, intellectual, political, economic,
incorporated in specific sections of the population, relics of past
regimes which refuse to die out) which generate opposition to
speedy progress and give to every initiative the equilibrium of
mediocrity, diluting it in time and in space.

One can note, in the case of the United States, the absence to a
considerable degree of traditional intellectuals, and consequently a
different equilibrium among the intellectuals in general. There has
been a massive development, on top of an industrial base, of the
whole range of modern superstructures. The necessity of an equi-
librium is determined, not by the need to fuse together the organic
intellectuals with the traditional, but by the need to fuse together
in a single national crucible with a unitary culture the different
forms of culture imported by immigrants of differing national
origins. The lack of a vast sedimentation of traditional intellectuals
such as one finds in countries of ancient civilisation explains, at
least in part, both the existence of only two major political parties,
which could in fact easily be reduced to one only (contrast this

THE INTELLECTUALS

21

with the case of France, and not only in the post-war period when
the multiplication of parties became a general phenomenon) , and
at the opposite extreme the enormous proliferation of religious
sects.*

One further phenomenon in the United States is worth studying,
and that is the formation of a surprising number of negro intellectuals
who absorb American culture and technology. It is worth bearing
in mind the indirect influence that these negro intellectuals could
exercise on the backward masses in Africa, and indeed direct
influence if one or other of these hypotheses were ever to be verified:
i . that American expansionism should use American negroes as its
agents in the conquest of the African market and the extension of
American civilisation (something of the kind has already happened,
but I don't know to what extent); 2. that the struggle for the
unification of the American people should intensify in such a way
as to provoke a negro exodus and the return to Africa of the most
independent and energetic intellectual elements, the ones, in other
words, who would be least inclined to submit to some possible
future legislation that was even more humiliating than are the
present widespread social customs. This development would give
rise to two fundamental questions: i. linguistic: whether English
could become the educated language of Africa, bringing unity in
the place of the existing swarm of dialects? 2. whether this intel-
lectual stratum could have sufficient assimilating and organising
capacity to give a "national" character to the present primitive
sentiment of being a despised race, thus giving the African continent
a mythic function as the common fatherland of all the negro
peoples? It seems to me that, for the moment, American negroes
have a national and racial spirit which is negative rather than
positive, one which is a product of the struggle carried on by the
whites in order to isolate and depress them. But was not this the
case with the Jews up to and throughout the eighteenth century?
Liberia, already Americanised and with English as its official
language, could become the Zion of American negroes, with a
tendency to set itself up as an African Piedmont. 18

In considering the question of the intellectuals in Central and
South America, one should, I think, bear in mind certain funda-

* More than two hundred of these have, I think, been counted. Again one
should compare the case of France and the fierce struggles that went on to maintain
the religious and moral unity of the French people.

18 The reference here is to the role of leadership among the Italian States
assumed by Piedmont during the Risorgimento. For Gramsci's analysis of this
phenomenon, see "The Function of Piedmont", pp. 104-106.

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mental conditions. No vast category of traditional intellectuals
exists in Central or South America either, but the question does
not present itself in the same terms as with the United States.
What in fact we find at the root of development of these countries
are the patterns of Spanish and Portuguese civilisation of the
sixteenth and seventeenth century, characterised by the effects of
the Counter Reformation and by military parasitism. The change-
resistant crystallisations which survive to this day in these countries
are the clergy and a military caste, two categories of traditional
intellectuals fossilised in a form inherited from the European
mother country. The industrial base is very restricted, and has not
developed complicated superstructures. The majority of intellectuals
are of the rural type, and, since the latifundium is dominant, with
a lot of property in the hands of the Church, these intellectuals are
linked with the clergy and the big landowners. National composition
is very unbalanced even among the white population and is further
complicated by the great masses of Indians who in some countries
form the majority of the inhabitants. It can be said that in these
regions of the American continent there still exists a situation of
the Kulturkampf and of the Dreyfus trial, 19 that is to say a situation
in which the secular and bourgeois element has not yet reached the
stage of being able to subordinate clerical and militaristic influence
and interests to the secular politics of the modem State. It thus
comes about that Free Masonry and forms of cultural organisation
like the "positivist Church" are very influential in the opposition
to Jesuitism. Most recent events (November 1930), from the
Kulturkampf of Calles in Mexico 80 to the military-popular insurrec-
tions in Argentina, Brazil, Peru, Chile and Bolivia, demonstrate
the accuracy of these observations.

Further types of formation of the categories of intellectuals and
of their relationship with national forces can be found in India,
China and Japan. In Japan we have a formation of the English

18 "Kulturkampf" was the name given to the struggle waged by Bismarck, in
the 1870s, with Liberal support, against Catholic opposition to Prussian hegemony.
The Dreyfus case in France, which lasted from Dreyfus' first condemnation in
1894. to his final acquittal in 1906, coincided with a major battle fully to laicise
the French educational system and had the effect of polarising French society
into a militaristic, pro-Catholic, anti-Semitic Right, and an anti-Catholic Liberal
and Socialist Left. Both Kulturkampf and Dreyfus case can also be seen as aspects
of the bourgeois-democratic struggle against the residues of reactionary social
forces.

10 Plutarco Elias Calles was President of Mexico from 1924 28. It was under
his Presidency that the religious and educational provisions of the new constitution
were carried through, against violent Catholic opposition.

THE INTELLECTUALS

2 3

and German type, that is an industrial civilisation that develops
within a feudal-bureaucratic integument with unmistakable features
of its own.

In China there is the phenomenon of the script, an expression of
the complete separation between the intellectuals and the people.
In both India and China the enormous gap separating intellectuals
and people is manifested also in the religious field. The problem of
different beliefs and of different ways of conceiving and practising
the same religion among the various strata of society, but parti-
cularly as between clergy, intellectuals and people, needs to be
studied in general, since it occurs everywhere to a certain degree;
but it is in the countries of East Asia that it reaches its most extreme
form. In Protestant countries the difference is relatively slight (the
proliferation of sects is connected with the need for a perfect suture
between intellectuals and people, with the result that all the
crudity of the effective conceptions of the popular masses is re-
produced in the higher organisational sphere). It is more note-
worthy in Catholic countries, but its extent varies. It is less in the
Catholic parts of Germany and in France; rather greater in Italy,
particularly in the South and in the islands; and very great indeed
in the Iberian peninsula and in the countries of Latin America.
The phenomenon increases in scale in the Orthodox countries
where it becomes necessary to speak of three degrees of the same
religion: that of the higher clergy and the monks, that of the secular
clergy and that of the people. It reaches a level of absurdity in
East Asia, where the religion of the people often has nothing what-
ever to do with that of books, although the two are called by the
same name.

2

ON EDUCATION

INTRODUCTION

In 1923 the Mussolini government put through the first major
reform of Italian education since the unification of the country sixty
years earlier and the adoption of the Piedmontese educational
system, as laid down by the Casati Act of 1859. The reform was
drafted by, and named after, the idealist philosopher Giovanni
Gentile, who was Mussolini's Minister of Education ; but its main
lines had in fact been worked out by Croce, who had held the same
post in the Giolitti government of 1921. In the first decades of
this century, Gentile and Croce had developed a wide-ranging
critique of the existing school system, stigmatising it as "instruction"
not "education", and as narrow, formal and sterile. They par-
ticularly attacked the learning by heart of Latin grammar and of
philosophy and literature manuals. The watchwords of the Gentile
reform were "educativity" and "active education", and Gramsci's
object in his writing on education was in part to expose the rhetorical
character of these slogans, and to show the practice which lay
behind them.

Gramsci's preoccupations in his writing on education are still
at the centre of educational debate today: the relations between
education and class; vocationalism; the ideology of education;
the "comprehensive" school. Moreover, the positions which emerge
from his criticisms of the Gentile reform should be seen in the light of
his personal situation. The apparently "conservative" eulogy of the
old curriculum in fact often represents a device which allowed
Gramsci to circumvent the prison censor, by disguising the future
(ideal system) as the past in order to criticise the present. In a
different way, Gramsci's insistence on the values of discipline and
work in education must also be seen in terms of his own history.
He was far from being hostile to the Rousseauesque tradition in
education, though he was critical of it. His attitude is best suggested
in his comment: "The active school is still in its romantic phase,
in which the elements of struggle against the mechanical and
Jesuitical school have become unhealthily exaggerated — through a
desire to distinguish themselves sharply from the latter and for
polemical reasons. It is necessary to enter the 'classical', rational
phase, and to find in the ends to be attained the natural source
for developing the appropriate methods and forms." But born into

ON EDUCATION

2 5

a backward peasant environment and deprived of either an adequate
or a continuous education, Gramsci's success in school and uni-
versity despite constant ill-health, under-nourishment and over-work
was a triumph of intellectual purpose. Something of his individual
experience is thus carried over into his repeated emphasis on
learning as work. (Just as his childhood experience led him to
value so highly an education which combated "folklore" and
"magic".)

The relation between autobiography and sociological reflection in
Gramsci's thought is, however, more intimate and complex even
than this would suggest. For, as the last sentence of the second of
these notes shows, it is with the creation of intellectuals from the
working class that he is ultimately concerned, and his life was
precisely the history of the formation of such an intellectual. In
perhaps the key passage of his analysis, he wrote: "It was right to
struggle against the old school, but reforming it was not so simple
as it seemed. The problem was not one of model curricula but of
men, and not just of the men who are actually teachers themselves
but of the entire social complex which they express." This judge-
ment sums up the whole dialectical character of education which
it was the object of the preceding notes to suggest. The reference to
the future, creating intellectuals from the working class, is funda-
mental to Gramsci's thought. It is the revolutionary perspective
which structures his whole analysis. In the last resort, the work
involved in education which Gramsci emphasises so much is at one
and the same time the work by means of which he personally
transcended his environment and the work required in the forging
of a revolutionary party of the working class — the latter's "organic
intellectuals".

ON EDUCATION

THE ORGANISATION OF EDUCATION AND OF CULTURE

It may be observed in general that in modern civilisation all
practical activities have become so complex, and the sciences 1 so
interwoven with everyday life, that each practical activity tends
to create a new type of school for its own executives and specialists
and hence to create a body of specialist intellectuals at a higher
level to teach in these schools. Thus, side by side with the type of
school which may be called "humanistic" — the oldest form of
traditional school, designed to develop in each individual human
being an as yet undifferentiated general culture, the fundamental
power to think and ability to find one's way in life — a whole system
of specialised schools, at varying levels, has been being created to
serve entire professional sectors, or professions which are already
specialised and defined within precise boundaries. It may be said,
indeed, that the educational crisis raging today is precisely linked
to the fact that this process of differentiation and particularisation
is taking place chaotically, without clear and precise principles,
without a well-studied and consciously established plan. The crisis
of the curriculum and organisation of the schools, i.e. of the overall
framework of a policy for forming modern intellectual cadres, is to
a great extent an aspect and a ramification of the more compre-
hensive and general organic crisis.

The fundamental division into classical and vocational (profes-
sional) schools was a rational formula: the vocational school for
the instrumental classes, 8 the classical school for the dominant
classes and the intellectuals. The development of an industrial base
both in the cities and in the countryside meant a growing need
for the new type of urban intellectual. Side by side with the
classical school there developed the technical school (vocational, but
not manual), and this placed a question-mark over the very principle
of a concrete programme of general culture, a humanistic pro-
gramme of general culture based on the Graeco-Roman tradition.
This programme, once questioned, can be said to be doomed,

1 "Sciences" in the sense of branches of human knowledge, rather than in the
more restricted meaning which the word has taken on since the industrial
revolution.

2 Classi strumentali is a term used by Gramsci interchangeably with the terms
classi subalterne or classi subordinate, and there seems no alternative to a literal
translation of each which leaves the reader free to decide whether there is any
different nuance of stress between them. See too the final paragraph of "History
of the Subaltern Classes" on pp. 52-5 below.

ON EDUCATION

27

since its formative capacity was to a great extent based on the
general and traditionally unquestioned prestige of a particular
form of civilisation.

The tendency today is to abolish every type of schooling that
is "disinterested" (not serving immediate interests) or "formative" —
keeping at most only a small-scale version to serve a tiny elite of
ladies and gentlemen who do not have to worry about assuring
themselves of a future career. Instead, there is a steady growth of
specialised vocational schools, in which the pupil's destiny and
future activity are determined in advance. A rational solution to
the crisis ought to adopt the following lines. First, a common basic
education, imparting a general, humanistic, formative culture; this
would strike the right balance between development of the capacity
for working manually (technically, industrially) and development
of the capacities required for intellectual work. From this type of
common schooling, via repeated experiments in vocational orienta-
tion, pupils would pass on to one of the specialised schools or to
productive work.

One must bear in mind the developing tendency for every
practical activity to create for itself its own specialised school, just
as every intellectual activity tends to create for itself cultural
associations of its own; the latter take on the function of post-
scholastic institutions, specialised in organising the conditions in
which it is possible to keep abreast of whatever progress is being
made in the given scientific field.

It may also be observed that deliberative bodies tend to an
ever-increasing extent to distinguish their activity into two "organic"
aspects: into the deliberative activity which is their essence, and
into technical-cultural activity in which the questions upon which
they have to take decisions are first examined by experts and
analysed scientifically. This latter activity has already created a
whole bureaucratic body, with a new structure; for apart from the
specialised departments of experts who prepare the technical
material for the deliberative bodies, a second body of functionaries
is created — more or less disinterested "volunteers", selected vari-
ously from industry, from the banks, from finance houses. This is
one of the mechanisms by means of which the career bureaucracy
eventually came to control the democratic regimes and parlia-
ments; now the mechanism is being organically extended, and is
absorbing into its sphere the great specialists of private enterprise,
which thus comes to control both regimes and bureaucracies.
What is involved is a necessary, organic development which tends

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to integrate the personnel specialised in the technique of politics
with personnel specialised in the concrete problems of administering
the essential practical activities of the great and complex national
societies of today. Hence every attempt to exorcise these tendencies
from the outside produces no result other than moralistic sermons
and rhetorical lamentations.

The question is thus raised of modifying the training of technical-
political personnel, completing their culture in accordance with the
new necessities, and of creating specialised functionaries of a new
kind, who as a body will complement deliberative activity. The
traditional type of political "leader", prepared only for formal-
juridical activities, is becoming anachronistic and represents a
danger for the life of the State : the leader must have that minimum
of general technical culture which will permit him, if not to "create"
autonomously the correct solution, at least to know how to adjudi-
cate between the solutions put forward by the experts, and hence
to choose the correct one from the "synthetic" viewpoint of
political technique.

A type of deliberative body which seeks to incorporate the
technical expertise necessary for it to operate realistically has been
described elsewhere, 3 in an account of what happens on the editorial
committees of some reviews, when these function at the same time
both as editorial committees and as cultural groups. The group
criticises as a body, and thus helps to define the tasks of the indi-
vidual editors, whose activity is organised according to a plan and
a division of labour which are rationally arranged in advance. By
means of collective discussion and criticism (made up of suggestions,
advice, comments on method, and criticism which is constructive
and aimed at mutual education) in which each individual functions
as a specialist in his own field and helps to complete the expertise
of the collectivity, the average level of the individual editors is in
fact successfully raised so that it reaches the altitude or capacity
of the most highly-skilled — thus not merely ensuring an ever more
select and organic collaboration for the review, but also creating
the conditions for the emergence of a homogeneous group of
intellectuals, trained to produce a regular and methodical "writing"
activity (not only in terms of occasional publications or short
articles, but also of organic, synthetic studies).

Undoubtedly, in this kind of collective activity, each task pro-
duces new capacities and possibilities of work, since it creates ever

• Int., pp. 137 ff.

ON EDUCATION

29

more organic conditions of work : files, bibliographical digests, a
library of basic specialised works, etc. Such activity requires an
unyielding struggle against habits of dilettantism, of improvisation,
of "rhetorical" solutions or those proposed for effect. The work
has to be done particularly in written form, just as it is in written
form that criticisms have to be made — in the form of terse, succinct
notes: this can be achieved if the material is distributed in time,
etc.; the writing down of notes and criticisms is a didactic principle
rendered necessary by the need to combat the habits formed in
public speaking — prolixity, demagogy and paralogism. This type
of intellectual work is necessary in order to impart to autodidacts
the discipline in study which an orthodox scholastic career provides,
in order to Taylorise 4 intellectual work. Hence the usefulness of
the principle of the "old men of Santa Zita" of whom De Sanctis
speaks in his memoirs of the Neapolitan school of Basilio Puoti: 6
i.e. the usefulness of a certain "stratification" of capabilities and
attitudes, and of the formation of work-groups under the guidance
of the most highly-skilled and highly-developed, who can accelerate
the training of the most backward and untrained.

When one comes to study the practical organisation of the common
school, one problem of importance is that of the various phases
of the educational process, phases which correspond to the age and
intellectual-moral development of the pupils and to the aims which
the school sets itself. The common school, or school of humanistic
formation (taking the term "humanism" in a broad sense rather
than simply in the traditional one) or general culture, should aim
to insert young men and women into social activity after bringing
them to a certain level of maturity, of capacity for intellectual and
practical creativity, and of autonomy of orientation and initiative.
The fixing of an age for compulsory school attendance depends on
the general economic conditions, since the latter may make it
necessary to demand of young men and women, or even of children,
a certain immediate productive contribution. The common school
necessitates the State's being able to take on the expenditure which

4 For Gramsci's analysis of Taylorism, see "Americanism and Fordism", below
pp. 302 ff.

6 De Sanctis in his memoirs recounts how as a child in Naples he was taken
to be taught literary Italian at a school for the aristocracy of the city run in his
home by the Marchese Puoti. Puoti used to refer to the elder boys, whose
"judgement carried great weight, and when one of them spoke everyone fell
silent, the marquis soonest of all, and was filled with admiration", as gli anziani
di Santa Zita, in reference to Dante, Inferno XXI, 38. The "anziani" were the
magistrates of the city of Lucca, whose patron saint was Zita.

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GRAMSCi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

at present falls on the family for the maintenance of children at
school; in other words, it transforms the budget of the national
department from top to bottom, expanding it to an unheard of
extent and making it more complex. The entire function of
educating and forming the new generations ceases to be private
and becomes public; for only thus can it involve them in their
entirety, without divisions of group or caste. But this transformation
of scholastic activity requires an unprecedented expansion of the
practical organisation of the school, i.e. of buildings, scientific
material, of the teaching body, etc. The teaching body in particular
would have to be increased, since the smaller the ratio between
teachers and pupils the greater will be the efficiency of the school —
and this presents other problems neither easy nor quick to solve.
The question of school buildings is not simple either, since this type
of school should be a college, with dormitories, refectories, specialised
libraries, rooms designed for seminar work, etc. Hence initially the
new type of school will have to be, cannot help being, only for
restricted groups, made up of young people selected through com-
petition or recommended by similar institutions.

The common school ought to correspond to the period represented
today by the primary and secondary schools, reorganised not only
as regards the content and the method of teaching, but also as
regards the arrangement of the various phases of the educational
process. The first, primary grade should not last longer than three
or four years, and in addition to imparting the first "instrumental"
notions of schooling — reading, writing, sums, geography, history —
ought in particular to deal with an aspect of education that is now
neglected — i.e. with "rights and duties", with the first notions of
the State and society as primordial elements of a new conception
of the world which challenges the conceptions that are imparted
by the various traditional social environments, i.e. those concep-
tions which can be termed folkloristic. The didactic problem is one
of mitigating and rendering more fertile the dogmatic approach
which must inevitably characterise these first years. The rest of the
course should not last more than six years, so that by the age of
fifteen or sixteen it should be possible to complete all the grades
of the common school.

One may object that such a course is too exhausting because
too rapid, if the aim is to attain in effect the results which the
present organisation of the classical school aims at but does not
attain. Yet the new organisation as a whole will have to contain
within itself the general elements which in fact make the course

ON EDUCATION

31

too slow today, at least for a part of the pupils. Which aTe these
elements? In a whole series of families, especially in the intellectual
strata, the children find in their family life a preparation, a
prolongation and a completion of school life; they "breathe in",
as the expression goes, a whole quantity of notions and attitudes
which facilitate the educational process properly speaking. They
already know and develop their knowledge of the literary language,
i.e. the means of expression and of knowledge, which is technically
superior to the means possessed by the average member of the
school population between the ages of six and twelve. Thus city
children, by the very fact of living in a city, have already
absorbed by the age of six a quantity of notions and attitudes
which make their school careers easier, more profitable, and
more rapid. In the basic organisation of the common school, at
least the essentials of these conditions must be created — not to
speak of the fact, which goes without saying, that parallel to the
common school a network of kindergartens and other institutions
would develop, in which, even before the school age, children
would be habituated to a certain collective discipline and acquire
pre-scholastic notions and attitudes. In fact, the common school
should be organised like a college, with a collective life by day
and by night, freed from the present forms of hypocritical and
mechanical discipline; studies should be carried on collectively, with
the assistance of the teachers and the best pupils, even during
periods of so-called individual study, etc.

The fundamental problem is posed by that phase of the existing
school career which is today represented by the liceo, 6 and which
today does not differ at all, as far as the kind of education is con-
cerned, from the preceding grades — except by the abstract pre-
sumption of a greater intellectual and moral maturity of the pupil,
matching his greater age and the experience he has already
accumulated.

In fact between liceo and university, i.e. between the school
properly speaking and life, there is now a jump, a real break in
continuity, and not a rational passage from quantity (age) to
quality (intellectual and moral maturity). From an almost purely
dogmatic education, in which learning by heart plays a great part,
the pupil passes to the creative phase, the phase of autonomous,

* Perhaps the nearest English-language equivalents of ginnosio and liceo are
the American junior high school and high school, though in the Italian system
they are selective schools (like English grammar schools) leading to a university
education.

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GRAMSCi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

independent work. From the school, where his studies are subjected
to a discipline that is imposed and controlled by authority, the
pupil passes on to a phase of study or of professional work in which
intellectual self-discipline and moral independence are theoretically
unlimited. And this happens immediately after the crisis of puberty,
when the ardour of the instinctive and elementary passions has not
yet resolved its struggle with the fetters of the character and of
moral conscience which are in the process of being formed.
Moreover, in Italy, where the principle of 'seminar' work is not
widespread in the universities, this passage is even more brusque
and mechanical.

By contrast, therefore, the last phase of the common school must
be conceived and structured as the decisive phase, whose aim is to
create the fundamental values of "humanism", the intellectual
self-discipline and the moral independence which are necessary for
subsequent specialisation — whether it be of a scientific character
(university studies) or of an immediately practical-productive
character (industry, civil service, organisation of commerce, etc.) .
The study and learning of creative methods in science and in life
must begin in this last phase of the school, and no longer be a
monopoly of the university or be left to chance in practical life.
This phase of the school must already contribute to developing the
element of independent responsibility in each individual, must be
a creative school. A distinction must be made between creative
school and active school, even in the form given to the latter by the
Dalton method. 7 The entire common school is an active school,
although it is necessary to place limits on libertarian ideologies in
this field and to stress with some energy the duty of the adult genera-
tions, i.e. of the State, to "mould" the new generations. The active
school is still in its romantic phase, in which the elements of
struggle against the mechanical and Jesuitical school have become

' The Dalton Method, a development of Montessori's ideas, is described
elsewhere by Gramsci (Int., p. 122): "the pupils are free to attend whichever
lessons (whether practical or theoretical) they please, provided that by the end
of each month they have completed the programme set for them; discipline is
entrusted to the pupils themselves. The system has a serious defect: the pupils
generally postpone doing their work until the last days of the month, and this
detracts from the seriousness of the education and represents a major difficulty
for the teachers who are supposed to help them but are overwhelmed with work —
whereas in the first weeks of the month they have little or nothing to do. (The
Dalton system is simply an extension to the secondary schools of the methods of
study which obtain in the Italian universities, methods which leave the student
complete freedom in his studies: in certain faculties the students sit twenty
examinations and their final degree in the fourth and last year, and the lecturer
never so much as knows the student.)"

ON EDUCATION

33

unhealthily exaggerated — through a desire to distinguish them-
selves sharply from the latter, and for polemical reasons. It is
necessary to enter the "classical", rational phase, and to find in
the ends to be attained the natural source for developing the
appropriate methods and forms.

The creative school is the culmination of the active school. In
the first phase the aim is to discipline, hence also to level out — to
obtain a certain kind of "conformism" which may be called
"dynamic". In the creative phase, on the basis that has been
achieved of "collectivisation" of the social type, the aim is to
expand the personality — by now autonomous and responsible, but
with a solid and homogeneous moral and social conscience. Thus
creative school does not mean school of "inventors and discoverers";
it indicates a phase and a method of research and of knowledge,
and not a predetermined "programme" with an obligation to
originality and innovation at all costs. It indicates that learning
takes place especially through a spontaneous and autonomous
effort of the pupil, with the teacher only exercising a function of
friendly guide — as happens or should happen in the university. To
discover a truth oneself, without external suggestions or assistance,
is to create — even if the truth is an old one. It demonstrates a
mastery of the method, and indicates that in any case one has
entered the phase of intellectual maturity in which one may discover
new truths. Hence in this phase the fundamental scholastic activity
will be carried on in seminars, in libraries, in experimental labora-
tories; during it, the organic data will be collected for a professional
orientation.

The advent of the common school means the beginning of new
relations between intellectual and industrial work, not only in the
school but in the whole of social life. The comprehensive principle
will therefore be reflected in all the organisms of culture, trans-
forming them and giving them a new content.

IN SEARCH OF THE EDUCATIONAL PRINCIPLE

In the old primary school, there used to be two elements in the
educational formation of the children. 8 They were taught the
rudiments of natural science, and the idea of civic rights and duties.
Scientific ideas were intended to insert the child into the societas
rerum, the world of things, while lessons in rights and duties were

8 i.e. before the Gentile reform see introduction to this section, and note 14
on p. 13a.

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intended to insert him into the State and into civil society. The
scientific ideas the children learnt conflicted with the magical con-
ception, of the world and nature which they absorbed from an
environment steeped in folklore; 9 while the idea of civic rights and
duties conflicted with tendencies towards individualistic and
localistic barbarism — another dimension of folklore. The school
combated folklore, indeed every residue of traditional conceptions
of the world. It taught a more modern outlook based essentially
on an awareness of the simple and fundamental fact that there
exist objective, intractable natural laws to which man must adapt
himself if he is to master them in his turn — and that there exist
social and state laws which are the product of human activity,
which are established by men and can be altered by men in the
interests of their collective development. These laws of the State
and of society create that human order which historically best
enables men to dominate the laws of nature, that is to say which
most facilitates their work. For work is the specific mode by which
man actively participates in natural life in order to transform and
socialise it more and more deeply and extensively.

Thus one can say that the educational principle which was the
basis of the old primary school was the idea of work. Human
work cannot be realised in all its power of expansion and pro-
ductivity without an exact and realistic knowledge of natural laws
and without a legal order which organically regulates men's life
in common. Men must respect this legal order through spontaneous
assent, and not merely as an external imposition — it must be a
necessity recognised and proposed to themselves as freedom, and
not simply the result of coercion. The idea and the fact of work
(of theoretical and practical activity) was the educational principle
latent in the primary school, since it is by means of work that the
social and State order (rights and duties) is introduced and identified
within the natural order. The discovery that the relations between
the social and natural orders are mediated by work, by man's
theoretical and practical activity, creates the first elements of an
intuition of the world free from all magic and superstition. It
provides a basis for the subsequent development of an historical,
dialectical conception of the world, which understands movement
and change, which appreciates the sum of effort and sacrifice which
the present has cost the past and which the future is costing the
present, and which conceives the contemporary world as a synthesis

8 See above, p. 30, for Gramsci's use of the term "folklore". See too, note 5 on
p. 326.

ON EDUCATION

35

of the past, of all past generations, which projects itself into the
future. This was the real basis of the primary school. Whether it
yielded all its fruits, and whether the actual teachers were aware
of the nature and philosophical content of their task, is another
question. This requires an analysis of the degree of civic conscious-
ness of the entire nation, of which the teaching body was merely
an expression, and rather a poor expression — certainly not an
avant-garde.

It' is not entirely true that "instruction" is something quite
different from "education". 10 An excessive emphasis on this dis-
tinction has been a serious error of idealist educationalists and its
effects can already be seen in the school system as they have
reorganised it. For instruction to be wholly distinct from education,
the pupil would have to be pure passivity, a "mechanical receiver"
of abstract notions — which is absurd and is anyway "abstractly"
denied by the supporters of pure educativity precisely in their
opposition to mere mechanistic instruction. The "certain" becomes
"true" in the child's consciousness. 11 But the child's consciousness
is not something "individual" (still less individuated), it reflects the
sector of civil society in which the child participates, and the social
relations which are formed within his family, his neighbourhood,
his village, etc. The individual consciousness of the overwhelming
majority of children reflects social and cultural relations which are
different from and antagonistic to those which are represented in
the school curricula: thus the "certain" of an advanced culture
becomes "true" in the framework of a fossilised and anachronistic
culture. There is no unity between school and life, and so there is
no automatic unity between instruction and education. In the
school, the nexus between instruction and education can only be
realised by the living work of the teacher. For this he must be aware
of the contrast between the type of culture and society which he

10 For this distinction, popular with educational thinkers influenced by Gentile
and by Croce, see the introduction to this section.

11 This distinction was made by Vico, in his Scienza Kuova of 1725. Para. 321 :
"The 'certain' in the laws is an obscurity of judgement backed only by authority,
so that we find them harsh in application, yet are obliged to apply them just
because they are certain. In good Latin cerium means particularised, or, as the
schools say, individuated; so that, in over-elegant Latin, cerium and commune, the
certain and the common, are opposed to each other." Para. 324: "The true in
the laws is a certain light and splendour with which natural reason illuminates
them; so that jurisconsults are often in the habit of saying verum est for aequum est."
Para. 137: "Men who do not know what is true of things take care to hold fast
to what is certain, so that, if they cannot satisfy their intellects by knowledge
(scunza), their wills at least may rest on consciousness (coscunza)." The New
Science, trans. Bergin and Fisch, Cornell, ig68.

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represents and the type of culture and society represented by his
pupils, and conscious of his obligation to accelerate and regulate
the child's formation in conformity with the former and in conflict
with the latter. If the teaching body is not adequate and the nexus
between instruction and education is dissolved, while the problem
of teaching is conjured away by cardboard schemata exalting
educativity, the teacher's work will as a result become yet more
inadequate. We will have rhetorical schools, quite unserious,
because the material solidity of what is "certain" will be missing,
and what is "true" will be a truth only of words: that is to say,
precisely, rhetoric.

This degeneration is even clearer in the secondary school, in the
literature and philosophy syllabus. Previously, the pupils at least
acquired a certain "baggage" or "equipment" (according to taste)
of concrete facts. Now that the teacher must be specifically a
philosopher and aesthete, the pupil does not bother with concrete
facts and fills his head with formulae and words which usually
mean nothing to him, and which are forgotten at once. It was
right to struggle against the old school, but reforming it was not
so simple as it seemed. The problem was not one of model curricula
but of men, and not just of the men who are actually teachers them-
selves but of the entire social complex which they express. In
reality a mediocre teacher may manage to see to it that his pupils
become more informed, although he will not succeed in making
them better educated; he can devote a scrupulous and bureaucratic
conscientiousness to the mechanical part of teaching — and the
pupil, if he has an active intelligence, will give an order of his
own, with the aid of his social background, to the "baggage" he
accumulates. With the new curricula, which coincide with a general
lowering of the level of the teaching profession, there will no longer
be any "baggage" to put in order. The new curricula should have
abolished examinations entirely; for to take an examination now
must be fearfully more chancy than before. A date is always a
date, whoever the examiner is, and a definition is always a defini-
tion. But an aesthetic judgement or a philosophical analysis?

The educational efficacy of the old Italian secondary school, as
organised by the Casati Act, 12 was not to be sought (or rejected)
in its explicit aim as an "educative" system, but in the fact that
its structure and its curriculum were the expression of a traditional
mode of intellectual and moral life, of a cultural climate diffused

12 The Casati Act, passed in 1859, remained the basis of the Italian educational
system until the Gentile Reform of 1923.

ON EDUCATION

37

throughout Italian society by ancient tradition. It was the fact that
this climate and way of life were in their death-throes, and that
the school had become cut off from life, which brought about the
crisis in education. A criticism of the curricula and disciplinary
structure of the old system means less than nothing if one does not
keep this situation in mind. Thus we come back to the truly active
participation of the pupil in the school, which can only exist if
the school is related to life. The more the new curricula nominally
affirm and theorise the pupil's activity and working collaboration
with the teacher, the more they are actually designed as if the
pupil were purely passive.

In the old school the grammatical study of Latin and Greek,
together with the study of their respective literatures and political
histories, was an educational principle — for the humanistic ideal,
symbolised by Athens and Rome, was diffused throughout society,
and was an essential element of national life and culture. Even the
mechanical character of the study of grammar was enlivened by this
cultural perspective. Individual facts were not learnt for an imme-
diate practical or professional end. The end seemed disinterested,
because the real interest was the interior development of personality,
the formation of character by means of the absorption and assimila-
tion of the whole cultural past of modern European civilisation.
Pupils did not learn Latin and Greek in order to speak them, to
become waiters, interpreters or commercial letter-writers. They
learnt them in order to know at first hand the civilisation of Greece
and of Rome — a civilisation that was a necessary precondition of
our modern civilisation: in other words, they learnt them in order
to be themselves and know themselves consciously. Latin and
Greek were learnt through their grammar, mechanically; but the
accusation of formalism and aridity is very unjust and inappro-
priate. In education one is dealing with children in whom one has
to inculcate certain habits of diligence, precision, poise (even
physical poise), ability to concentrate on specific subjects, which
cannot be acquired without the mechanical repetition of disciplined
and methodical acts. Would a scholar at the age of forty be able to
sit for sixteen hours on end at his work-table if he had not, as a
child, compulsorily, through mechanical coercion, acquired the
appropriate psycho-physical habits? If one wishes to produce great
scholars, one still has to start at this point and apply pressure
throughout the educational system in order to succeed in creating
those thousands or hundreds or even only dozens of scholars of the
highest quality which are necessary to every civilisation. (Of

38

GRAMSCi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

course, one can improve a great deal in this field by the provision
of adequate funds for research, without going back to the educa-
tional methods of the Jesuits.)

Latin is learnt (or rather studied) by analysing it down to its
smallest parts — analysing it like a dead thing, it is true, but all
analyses made by children can only be of dead things. Besides,
one must not forget that the life of the Romans is a myth which to
some extent has already interested the child and continues to
interest him, so that in the dead object there is always present a
greater living being. Thus, the language is dead, it is analysed as
an inert object, as a corpse on the dissecting table, but it continually
comes to life again in examples and in stories. Could one study
Italian in the same way ? Impossible. No living language could be
studied like Latin: it would be and would seem absurd. No child
knows Latin when he starts to study it by these analytical methods.
But a living language can be known and it would be enough for a
single child to know it, and the spell would be broken: everybody
would be off to the Berlitz school at once. Latin (like Greek)
appears to the imagination as a myth, even for the teacher. One
does not study Latin in order to learn the language. For a long time,
as a result of a cultural and scholarly tradition whose origin and
development one might investigate, Latin has been studied as an
element in an ideal curriculum, an element which combines and
satisfies a whole series of pedagogic and psychological requirements.
It has been studied in order to accustom children to studying in a
specific manner, and to analysing an historical body which can be
treated as a corpse which returns continually to life; in order to
accustom them to reason, to think abstractly and schematically
while remaining able to plunge back from abstraction into real and
immediate life, to see in each fact or datum what is general and
what is particular, to distinguish the concept from the specific
instance.

For what after all is the educational significance of the constant
comparison between Latin and the language one speaks ? It involves
the distinction and the identification of words and concepts;
suggests the whole of formal logic, from the contradiction between
opposites to the analysis of distincts; 13 reveals the historical move-
ment of the entire language, modified through time, developing
and not static. In the eight years of ginnasio and liceo 1 * the entire
history of the real language is studied, after it has first been photo-

18 For Croce's concept of the "analysis of distincts" see Introduction, p. xxiii.
14 See note 6 on p. 31.

ON EDUCATION

39

graphed in one abstract moment in the form of grammar. It is
studied from Ennius (or rather from the words of the fragments of
the twelve tablets) right up to Phaedrus and the Christian writers
in Latin: an historical process is analysed from its source until its
death in time — or seeming death, since we know that Italian, with
which Latin is continually contrasted in school, is modern Latin.
Not only the grammar of a certain epoch (which is an abstraction)
or its vocabulary are studied, but also, for comparison, the grammar
and the vocabulary of each individual author and the meaning of
each term in each particular stylistic "period". Thus the child
discovers that the grammar and the vocabulary of Phaedrus are
not those of Cicero, nor those of Plautus, nor of Lactantius or
Tertullian, and that the same nexus of sounds does not have the
same meaning in different periods and for different authors. Latin
and Italian are continually compared; but each word is a concept,
a symbol, which takes on different shades of meaning according
to the period and the writer in each of the two languages under
comparison. The child studies the literary history of the books
written in that language, the political history, the achievements of
the men who spoke that language. His education is determined by
the whole of this organic complex, by the fact that he has followed
that itinerary, if only in a purely literal sense, he has passed through
those various stages, etc. He has plunged into history and acquired
a historicising understanding of the world and of life, which becomes
a second — nearly spontaneous — nature, since it is not inculcated
pedantically with an openly educational intention. These studies
educated without an explicitly declared aim of doing so, with a
minimal "educative" intervention on the part of the teacher: they
educated because they gave instruction. Logical, artistic, psycho-
logical experience was gained unawares, without a continual self-
consciousness. Above all a profound "synthetic", philosophical
experience was gained, of an actual historical development. This
does not mean — it would be stupid to think so — that Latin and
Greek, as such, have intrinsically thaumaturgical qualities in the
educational field. It is the whole cultural tradition, which also and
particularly lives outside the school, which in a given ambience
produces such results. In any case one can see today, with the
changes in the traditional idea of culture, the way in which the
school is in crisis and with it the study of Latin and Greek.

It will be necessary to replace Latin and Greek as the fulcrum
of the formative school, and they will be replaced. But it will not
be easy to deploy the new subject or subjects in a didactic form

4 o

GRAMSCi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

which gives equivalent results in terms of education and general
personality-formation, from early childhood to the threshold of the
adult choice of career. For in this period what is learnt, or the
greater part of it, must be — or appear to the pupils to be — dis-
interested, i.e. not have immediate or too immediate practical
purposes. It must be formative, while being "instructive" — in
other words rich in concrete facts. In the present school, the pro-
found crisis in the traditional culture and its conceptioir of life and
of man has resulted in a progressive degeneration. Schools of the
vocational type, i.e. those designed to satisfy immediate, practical
interests, are beginning to predominate over the formative school,
which is not immediately "interested". The most paradoxical
aspect of it all is that this new type of school appears and is advocated
as being democratic, while in fact it is destined not merely to
perpetuate social differences but to crystallise them in Chinese
complexities.

The traditional school was oligarchic because it was intended for
the new generation of the ruling class, destined to rule in its turn :
but it was not oligarchic in its mode of teaching. It is not the fact
that the pupils learn how to rule there, nor the fact that it tends
to produce gifted men, which gives a particular type of school its
social character. This social character is determined by the fact
that each social group has its own type of school, intended to per-
petuate a specific traditional function, ruling or subordinate. If one
wishes to break this pattern one needs, instead of multiplying and
grading different types of vocational school, to create a single type
of formative school (primary-secondary) which would take the child
up to the threshold of his choice of job, forming him during this
time as a person capable of thinking, studying, and ruling — or con-
trolling those who rule.

The multiplication of types of vocational school thus tends to
perpetuate traditional social differences; but since, within these
differences, it tends to encourage internal diversification, it gives
the impression of being democratic in tendency. The labourer can
become a skilled worker, for instance, the peasant a surveyor or
petty agronomist. But democracy, by definition, cannot mean
merely that an unskilled worker can become skilled. It must mean
that every "citizen" can "govern" and that society places him, even
if only abstractly, in a general condition to achieve this. Political
democracy tends towards a coincidence of the rulers and the ruled
(in the sense of government with the consent of the governed),
ensuring for each non-ruler a free training in the skills and general

ON EDUCATION

41

technical preparation necessary to that end. But the type of school
which is now developing as the school for the people does not tend
even to keep up this illusion. For it is organised ever more fully
in such a way as to restrict recruitment to the technically qualified
governing stratum, in a social and political context which makes
it increasingly difficult for "personal initiative" to acquire such
skills and technical-political preparation. Thus we are really going
back to a division into juridically fixed and crystallised estates
rather than moving towards the transcendence of class divisions.
The multiplication of vocational schools which specialise increasingly
from the very beginning of the child's educational career is one
of the most notable manifestations of this tendency. It is noticeable
that the new pedagogy has concentrated its fire on "dogmatism"
in the field of instruction and the learning of concrete facts — i.e.
precisely in the field in which a certain dogmatism is practically
indispensable and can be reabsorbed and dissolved only in the whole
cycle of the educational process (historical grammar could not be
taught in liceo classes). On the other hand, it has been forced to
accept the introduction of dogmatism par excellence in the field of
religious thought, with the result that the whole history of philo-
sophy is now implicitly seen as a succession of ravings and delusions. 15
In the philosophy course, the new curriculum impoverishes the
teaching and in practice lowers its level (at least for the over-
whelming majority of pupils who do not receive intellectual help
outside the school from their family or home environment, and
who have to form themselves solely by means of the knowledge
they receive in the class-room) — in spite of seeming very rational
and fine, fine as any Utopia. The traditional descriptive philosophy,
backed by a course in the history of philosophy and by the reading
of a certain number of philosophers, in practice seems the best
thing. Descriptive, definitional philosophy may be a dogmatic
abstraction, just as grammar and mathematics are, but it is an
educational and didactive necessity. "One equals one" is an

16 The Gentile Reform provided for compulsory religious education in Italian
schools, and Gentile's justifications of this are criticised by Gramsci in Int.,
pp. 1 16-18: ". . . Gentile's thinking ... is nothing more than an extension of the
idea that 'religion is good for the people' (people = child = primitive phase
of thought to which religion corresponds, etc.), i.e. a (tendentious) abandonment
of the aim of educating the people . . . Gentile's historicism is of a very degenerate
kind : it is the historicism of those jurists f or whom the knout is not a knout when
it is an 'historical' knout. Moreover, its ideas are extremely vague and confused.
The fact that a 'dogmatic' exposition of scientific ideas and a certain 'mythology'
are necessary in the primary school does not mean that the dogma and the
mythology have to be precisely those of religion." Etc. See note 14 on p. 132.

42

GRAMSGi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

abstraction, but it leads nobody to think that one fly equals one
elephant. The rules of formal logic are abstractions of the same
kind, they are like the grammar of normal thought; but they still
need to be studied, since they are not something innate, but have
to be acquired through work and reflection. The new curriculum
presupposes that formal logic is something you already possess when
you think, but does not explain how it is to be acquired, so that in
practice it is assumed to be innate. Formal logic is like grammar:
it is assimilated in a "living" way even if the actual learning process
has been necessarily schematic and abstract. For the learner is not
a passive and mechanical recipient, a gramophone record — even
if the liturgical conformity of examinations sometimes makes him
appear so. The relation between these educational forms and the
child's psychology is always active and creative, just as the relation
of the worker to his tools is active and creative. A calibre is likewise
a complex of abstractions, but without calibration it is not possible
to produce real objects — real objects which are social relations, and
which implicitly embody ideas.

The child who sweats at Barbara, Baraliptori 1 - 6 is certainly per-
forming a tiring task, and it is important that he does only what is
absolutely necessary and no more. But it is also true that it will
always be an effort to learn physical self-discipline and self-control;
the pupil has, in effect, to undergo a psycho-physical training.
Many people have to be persuaded that studying too is a job, and
a very tiring one, with its own particular apprenticeship — involving
muscles and nerves as well as intellect. It is a process of adaptation,
a habit acquired with effort, tedium and even suffering. Wider
participation in secondary education brings with it a tendency to
ease off the discipline of studies, and to ask for "relaxations". Many
even think that the difficulties of learning are artificial, since they
are accustomed to think only of manual work as sweat and toil.
The question is a complex one. Undoubtedly the child of a tradi-
tionally intellectual family acquires this psycho-physical adaptation
more easily. Before he ever enters the class-room he has numerous
advantages over his comrades, and is already in possession of atti-
tudes learnt from his family environment: he concentrates more
easily, since he is used to "sitting still", etc. Similarly, the son of a
city worker suffers less when he goes to work in a factory than does a
peasant's child or a young peasant already formed by country life.
(Even diet has its importance, etc.) This is why many people think

16 Barbara, Baralipton, were mnemonic words used to memorise syllogisms in
classical logic.

ON EDUCATION

43

that the difficulty of study conceals some "trick" which handicaps
them — that is, when they do not simply believe that they are stupid
by nature. They see the "gentleman" 17 — and for many, especially
in the country, "gentleman" means intellectual — complete, speedily
and with apparent ease, work which costs their sons tears and
blood, and they think there is a "trick". In the future, these questions
may become extremely acute and it will be necessary to resist the
tendency to render easy that which cannot become easy without
being distorted. If our aim is to produce a new stratum of intel-
lectuals, including those capable of the highest degree of specialisa-
tion, from a social group which has not traditionally developed the
appropriate attitudes, then we have unprecedented difficulties to
overcome.

17 Signore. On this term, not of course an exact equivalent of "gentleman" ,
see below p. 272.

3

NOTES ON ITALIAN HISTORY

INTRODUCTION

Gramsci planned to organise his notes on Italian history into a study
to be entitled "Reformation, Renaissance". Although, in the event,
a comparatively small proportion of his historical writing was
concerned with the specific historical phenomena normally under-
stood by these designations, nevertheless Gramsci's title does
perhaps offer us a starting-point from which to attempt to isolate
the basic preoccupations and the basic concepts with which he
approached the historical experience of Italy.

Gramsci distinguishes between two quite distinct "Renaissances" :
". . . the Renaissance was a vast movement, which started after the
year iooo, and of which Humanism and the Renaissance (in the
narrow sense of the word) were two closing moments — moments
which were primarily located in Italy, whereas the more general
historical process was European and not only Italian. Humanism
and the Renaissance, as the literary expression of this European
historical movement, were located primarily in Italy; but the
progressive movement after the year iooo, although an important
part of it took place in Italy with the Communes, precisely in Italy
degenerated . . . while in the rest of Europe the general movement
culminated in the national states and then in the world expansion
of Spain, France, England, Portugal. In Italy what corresponded
to the national states of these countries was the organisation of the
Papacy as an absolute state . . . which divided the rest of Italy,
etc. . . . The Renaissance may be viewed as the cultural expression
of an historical process in which there was created in Italy a new
intellectual class of European dimensions. This class divided into
two branches: one exercised a cosmopolitan function in Italy,
linked to the Papacy and reactionary in character; the other was
formed outside Italy, from political and religious exiles, and
exercised a progressive cosmopolitan function in the various
countries where it existed, or participated in the organisation of the
modern states as a technical element in the armed forces, in politics,
in engineering, etc."

Thus contained in the term "Renaissance" are a number of
Gramsci's key concerns: the failure of the Italian Communal
bourgeoisie (see note 4 on p. 53) to transcend the "economic-
corporate" phase and create a national state; the specific historical

NOTES ON ITALIAN HISTORY

45

backwardness of Italy which resulted; the regressive "cosmopolitan"
characteristics of the traditional Italian intellectuals, linked to the
role of the Papacy, etc.

The term "Reformation" is likewise not a simple, or univocal one
for Gramsci. In so far as he used it to stress popular participation,
which he saw as a characteristic of Lutheranism and Calvinism in
contrast to the Renaissance, it may be questioned to what extent
this corresponds to historical reality. Gramsci sees Marxism as
involving a "reformation": "The philosophy of praxis corresponds
to the nexus Protestant Reformation plus French Revolution: it is
a philosophy which is also a politics and a politics which is also a
philosophy." (See too "Brief Notes on Machiavelli's Politics" on
pp. 132-3.) Here we find one of the couples of opposed but dia-
lectically united concepts which run through Gramsci's work, and
whose shifting, and by no means always consistent combinations
make it so hard to arrive at any definitive interpretation of his
thought. Revolution/Reformation here can be related to the other
Gramscian couplets State/civil society, force/consent, domination/
leadership, war of manoeuvre/war of position, etc. which recur
throughout the Prison Notebooks. (See, e.g., p. 170 and note 71 on
that page.)

The major focus, in the event, of Gramsci's historical writing was
the Risorgimento. He began his analysis by a statement of "the
methodological criterion on which our own study must be based . . .
that the supremacy of a social group manifests itself in two ways,
as "domination" and as "intellectual and moral leadership". The
Risorgimento, for Gramsci, was characterised by an absence of the
second element, and concretely by an absence of an Italian equiva-
lent of the Jacobins. (What Gramsci meant by "Jacobin" will be
discussed more fully in the introduction to "The Modern Prince"
below. He saw the essence of "Jacobinism" as the subordination of
the "countryside" to the "city" in an organic relationship, i.e. the
organising of peasant "consent".)

The basic problem confronting Gramsci was that of identifying
the specific weaknesses of the Italian national state which emerged
from the Risorgimento — weaknesses which culminated in the advent
to power of Fascism sixty years later. His analysis was a complex
one, whose point of departure was the question of what the
Risorgimento was not. Mazzini and the Action Party, the potential
"Jacobins", did not make any attempt to rouse the peasantry and
draw it into the process of national unification; they did not
promote any agrarian reform. Consequently, they failed to give the

46

GRAMSGi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

Risorgimento any popular dimension or themselves any solid class
base. (Incidentally, this aspect of Gramsci's historical writing has
given rise to a major historical debate in Italy : see Romario Roseo's
thesis — developed in Risorgimento e capitalismo (1956-58) — that the
absence of an agrarian reform in fact played a "progressive" role
in relation to the growth of Italian industrial capitalism, and also
the debate between Romeo and Gerschenkron in La formazione
dell 'Italia industriale (1963).) The result was that "what was involved
was not a social group which 'led' other groups, but a State
[Piedmont] which, even though it had limitations as a power, 'lad'
the group which should have been 'leading' ". What was involved
was a "passive revolution".

Gramsci's use of the term "passive revolution" is one of the
cruxes of his political thought. The term originated with Vincenzo
Cuoco (see note 11 on p. 5g), who used it at first to describe the lack
of mass participation in the Neapolitan revolution of 1 799 and the
latter's "external" origins; subsequently Cuoco came to advocate
such "passive revolutions" as preferable to violent ones involving
the popular masses on the French model. (Incidentally, Lenin also
uses the term in The Crisis of Menshevism (igo6), but there is no
evidence that Gramsci knew this text.) Gramsci also uses the
expression in two distinct ways : firstly, in something close to Cuoco's
original sense, as a revolution without mass participation (and due
in large part to outside forces) — e.g. the Risorgimento; secondly,
as a "molecular" social transformation which takes place as it were
beneath the surface of society, in situations where the progressive
class cannot advance openly — e.g. the progress of the bourgeoisie in
Restoration France after 1815 ("revolution/restoration" : see p. 1 ig),
or the development of Christianity within the Roman Empire.

Although Gramsci condemns explicitly any advocacy of "passive
revolution" as a programme, his use of the term is often ambiguous.
This is especially the case where he tentatively relates it to "war of
position", itself by no means a consistent or univocal concept in
Gramsci's writing (see introduction to "State and Civil Society").
On the other hand, Gramsci makes use of the notion of "passive
revolution" to confront certain of the central problems of revolu-
tionary analysis and strategy. In the two final passages in this
section, in which he comments on Croce's historiography and also
on his contemporary role, and again in the section entitled "Ameri-
canism and Fordism" below, Gramsci relates the concept of passive
revolution to the Italian fascist regime. Viewing the latter as a
transitional, compromise form comparable in some ways to the rule

NOTES ON ITALIAN HISTORY

47

of Napoleon III, he asks a series of questions. What modification in
the fundamental balance of social forces is taking place beneath the
surface of fascism? How is Croce organising the long-term "consent"
to bourgeois rule? What is the significance of the forms of State
intervention in the economy which were common to New Deal
America and. to Fascist Italy? What are the fundamental economic
contradictions under Fascism, and how will these be expressed,
politically? How can the working class develop and retain some
degree of class organisation and consciousness even under the
corporate State?

Gramsci does not offer clear answers to all these questions. The
sense of the analogy he draws between the post-1815 period in
Europe and the period in which he is writing (see final sentences of
this section) is simply to reaffirm that even when frontal attack may
be impossible, a passive revolution may nonetheless be taking place ;
that the class struggle continues despite the surface stability of the
fascist regime. Yet here we approach one of the supreme paradoxes
of Gramsci's thought, a dilemma to which he found no answer. For
there is precisely a radical dissimilarity between the situation of the
bourgeoisie under feudal or pre-bourgeois forms of State and that of
the proletariat under bourgeois rule. In the former case, capitalist
relations of production can develop within the feudal State, until
at a certain point in time the "carapace" cracks. In the latter case,
however, this is not so. It is quite impossible for socialist relations
of production to develop "within" capitalism. It is unquestionably
for this reason that whenever Gramsci touches on this dilemma —
which is also the question of how fascism can be overthrown — he
tends to pose questions rather than make assertions. Since no
fascist regime has yet been overthrown by internal forces, it is to
his credit that he refused any easy, or unilateral formula, but
contented himself with rejecting the twin, undialectical deviations
of frontal attack and "liquidationism". Clearly these problems are
closely related too to Gramsci's statement that "A social group can,
and indeed must, already 'lead' [i.e. be hegemonic] before winning
governmental power (this indeed is one of the principal conditions
for the winning of such power)." For this, see introduction to
"State and Civil Society".

OUTLINE CHRONOLOGY OF ITALIAN HISTORY

a.d. 476 Final extinction of the Roman Empire in the West,
followed by periods of Ostrogoth and Lombard rule in

4.8 GRAMSCi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

what is now Italy — punctuated by attempts to extend
Byzantine power, especially in the South.
Eighth Rise of the Papacy as a territorial power; annexation

Century of the Lombard kingdom by Charlemagne.
800 Charlemagne crowned as Holy Roman Emperor.

912 Otto of Saxony crowned Holy Roman Emperor as

Otto I. For the next four centuries and more, Italian
history was dominated by the struggle for supremacy
between the German Emperors and the Papacy. In
the South, Sicily was held by the Arabs (827-1072),
then the Normans until 1 1 89, when the Hohenstaufen
Emperor Henry VI inherited it by marriage.
Twelfth Emergence in North and Central Italy of the "Corn-
Century munes". The prosperous trading and manufacturing
towns which grew up during this period formed self-
governing republics which controlled the surrounding
contado. The German Emperors saw the emergence of
these towns as a threat, and supported the feudal
Thirteenth landowners (who were the basis for the Ghibelline
Century party) against them. The Papacy supported the
burghers and merchants who constituted the Guelph
party. In the internecine struggles between the cities,
and within them between the rival parties, the feudal
landowning class was effectively wiped out in North
and Central Italy by about 1300. It was during the
thirteenth century that Italian emerged as a literary
language, first in Sicily at the court of Frederick II,
and subsequently in Tuscany with Dante ( 1 265- 13 2 1 ) .
Fourteenth The mediaeval communes became dominated by
Century their Signorie or councils of notables — and in time, in
most cases, by one powerful family dynasty. From
1300 onwards, five states were dominant in Italy:
Florence, Milan, Venice, the Papal state, and the
Kingdom of Naples (ruled by the dynasty of Anjou).
Sicily (which had thrown off Angevin rule itself in
1282: the Angevins had acquired the island by
marriage in 1265) from 1302 had Aragonese rulers.
In 1347-48, a probable third (up to 60 per cent in
certain cities) of the population of Italy died in the
Black Death.

Fifteenth The family dynasties which dominated the city-states
Century of North and Central Italy were mostly legitimised by

NOTES ON ITALIAN HISTORY

49

Pope or Emperor: the Signoria gave way to the
Principato. The Renaissance (in the conventional,
narrow sense) flowered in Medici Florence, Sforza
Milan, Papal Rome, and in a host of smaller cities.
Venice remained a republic. In 1442 Alphonse of
Aragon succeeded to the Kingdom of Naples (he
already ruled Sicily).
1494 Two years after the death of Lorenzo de' Medici,

Charles VIII of France invaded Italy to claim the
crown of Naples. By 1529, Milan and Naples were
under Spanish rule. Machiavelli (1469-152 7) wrote
precisely during this period of foreign invasions and
maximum disunity among the Italian states.
Sixteenth— Italy was largely under foreign domination or out-
Eighteenth right occupation. Naples (i.e. virtually the whole of
Centuries mainland Italy South of Rome) was Spanish until
1 713, Austrian until 1735, and was ruled by a Spanish
Bourbon dynasty until the approach of Napoleon's
armies and the proclamation of the Parthenopean
Republic in 1798. Milan was Spanish until 1713,
Austrian thereafter until the Napoleonic conquest of
1796. Florence lost its independence in 1532 and was
merged into the Grand Duchy of Tuscany, which was
effectively an Austrian puppet state from 1737. The
Papal State remained formally independent, as did
the Venetian Republic, until the advent of Napoleon,
in 1797-98. Various other small states existed as
independent entities in Central Italy during this
period: Parma, Genoa, Lucca, Massa-Carrara, Mo-
dena, etc. Sicily was ceded by Spain to the Duke
of Savoy in 1 7 1 3 ; by Savoy to Austria in 1720; in
1738 it was united with Naples under the Spanish
Bourbons. Lastly, Savoy emerged as a powerful state
in the seventeenth century; in 1 713 the Duke of Savoy
acquired Sicily, but in 1720 was forced to exchange
the latter for Sardinia — whereafter his realm became
known as the Kingdom of Sardinia (although its main
territory was in fact what is now Piedmont).
1 796-18 1 5 The Napoleonic invasion and occupation temporarily
united Italy, and had a lasting impact on the political
and social life of the territory.
18 1 5 Congress of Vienna. Austria became the dominant

GRAMSGi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

power throughout the Italian peninsula; she occupied
Lombardy, the Veneto and the statelets of central
Italy, and protected the restored Bourbons in Naples,
the Papacy, and the Kingdom of Sardinia (Sardinia
and Piedmont).

Carbonarist risings in Piedmont and Naples were

suppressed with Austrian assistance.

Risings in Modena, Parma, and especially in the

Papal states were suppressed by the Austrians.

Abortive Mazzinian rising, led by Ramorino, at

Genoa against the Savoy monarchy of Sardinia and

Piedmont.

Anti-Austrian risings throughout North and Central
Italy. The Piedmont monarchy had by now set its
sights on becoming the nucleus and hegemonic force
of a united Italy. In March 1848 King Carlo Alberto
proclaimed that Italy would "go it alone", and
declared war on Austria. In May 1848 the Milanese
rose in the "Five Days" insurrection, and drove the
Austrians out of the city. A republic was proclaimed
once again in Venice, under Manin. In January 1849,
a Roman Republic was declared. However, in March
1849 the Piedmontese were defeated by the Austrians
at Novara, and in the following months the Austrians
re-established total supremacy; Rome fell in June,
and Venice in August.
Anti- Austrian rising in Milan suppressed.
Piedmont, under Cavour's ministry, participated
somewhat symbolically in the Crimean War on the
French side, as the opening move in a determined
diplomatic bid for French support.
Alliance signed between France and Piedmont.
War between France and Piedmont on the one hand
and Austria on the other. After victories at Magenta
and Solferino, Piedmont received Lombardy from
Austria, and in turn ceded Nice and Savoy to France.
The Central Italian states (with the exception of the
Papal state) joined Piedmont. Garibaldi's expedition
to Sicily finally toppled the Bourbon dynasty of the
Two Sicilies.

Kingdom of Italy proclaimed, with its capital at
Turin, and subsequently (1864) at Florence.

NOTES ON ITALIAN HISTORY

51

1866 Prussia defeated Austria; Italy, as Prussia's ally,
received the Veneto.

1867 French troops prevented Garibaldi from marching on
Rome, defeating him at Mentana.

1870 During the Franco-Prussian War, the French troops

withdrew and the Piedmontese army occupied Rome,
which became the capital of a united Italy. The Pope
refused to accept the end of his territorial power or the
legitimacy of the new Italian state, and withdrew
symbolically into the Vatican.

1 885 Italian imperialist expansion into Eritrea and Somalia.

1 9 1 2 Italian occupation o f Libya.

igi5 Italy intervened in the First World War on the side

of Britain and France; at the end of the war, she was
rewarded by the acquisition of Trieste, the Trentino
and South Tyrol, at the expense of Austria.

This extremely schematic chronology notably excludes post-
Risorgimento, internal Italian politics — which is extensively covered
by Gramsci's text, and in the footnotes to it.

NOTES ON ITALIAN HISTORY

HISTORY OF THE SUBALTERN CLASSES: METHODOLOGICAL CRITERIA

The historical unity of the ruling classes is realised in the State, and
their history is essentially the history of States and of groups of
States. But it would be wrong to think that this unity is simply
juridical and political (though such forms of unity do have their
importance too, and not in a purely formal sense) ; the fundamental
historical unity, concretely, results from the organic relations
between State or political society and "civil society". 1

The subaltern classes, by definition, are not unified and cannot
unite until they are able to become a "State": their history, there-
fore, is intertwined with that of civil society, and thereby with the
history of States and groups of States. Hence it is necessary to study:
I. the objective formation of the subaltern social groups, by the
developments and transformations occurring in the sphere of
economic production; their quantitative diffusion and their origins
in pre-existing social groups, whose mentality, ideology and aims
they conserve for a time; 2. their active or passive affiliation to the
dominant political formations, their attempts to influence the pro-
grammes of these formations in order to press claims of their own,
and the consequences of these attempts in determining processes
of decomposition, renovation or neo-formation; 3. the birth of new
parties of the dominant groups, intended to conserve the assent of
the subaltern groups and to maintain control over them; 4. the
formations which the subaltern groups themselves produce, in order
to press claims of a limited and partial character; 5. those new
formations which assert the autonomy of the subaltern groups, but
within the old framework; 6. those formations which assert the
integral autonomy, . . . etc. 2

The list of these phases can be broken down still further, with
intermediate phases and combinations of several phases. The
historian must record, and discover the causes of, the line of develop-
ment towards integral autonomy, starting from the most primitive
phases; he must note every manifestation of the Sorelian "spirit of
cleavage". 3 Therefore, the history of the parties of the subaltern
groups is very complex too. It must include all the repercussions of

1 For Gramsci's use of the term "civil society", see introduction to Stale and Civil
Society, pp. 206-9.

* The last three categories refer presumably to trade unions, reformist parties,
and communist parties respectively.
3 See note 4 on p. 126.

NOTES ON ITALIAN HISTORY

53

party activity, throughout the area of the subaltern groups them-
selves taken globally, and also upon the attitudes of the dominant
group; it must include as well the repercussions of the far more
effective actions (effective because backed by the State) of the
dominant groups upon the subaltern groups and their parties.
Among the subaltern groups, one will exercise or tend to exercise a
certain hegemony through the mediation of a party ; this must be
established by studying the development of all the other parties
too, in so far as they include elements of the hegemonic group or of
the other subaltern groups which undergo such hegemony.

Numerous principles of historical research can be established by
examining the innovatory forces which led the national Risorgi-
mento in Italy: these forces took power and united in the modern
Italian State, in struggle against specific other forces and helped by
specific auxiliaries or allies. In order to become a State, they had to
subordinate or eliminate the former and win the active or passive
assent of the latter. A study of how these innovatory forces developed,
from subaltern groups to hegemonic and dominant groups, must
therefore seek out and identify the phases through which they
acquired: i. autonomy vis-a-vis the enemies they had to defeat, and
2. support from the groups which actively or passively assisted them;
for this entire process was historically necessary before they could
unite in the form of a State. It is precisely by these two yardsticks
that the level of historical and political consciousness which the
innovatory forces progressively attained in the various phases can
be measured — and not simply by the yardstick of their separation
from the formerly dominant forces. Usually the latter is the only
criterion adopted, and the result is a unilateral history — or some-
times total incomprehension, as in the case of the history of Italy,
since the era of the Communes. The Italian bourgeoisie was
incapable of uniting the people around itself, and this was the cause
of its defeats and the interruptions in its development. 4

In the Risorgimento too, the same narrow egoism prevented a

' Clearly the fate of the mediaeval communes in Italy i.e. the autonomous
city-states and the failure of their bourgeoisies to unite nationally is one of the
fundamental problems for Italian historiography, and it recurs throughout the
Prison Notebooks, though in particularly fragmentary form, e.g. "This book of
Barbadoro's [on the finances of the Florentine Commune] is indispensable for
seeing precisely how the communal bourgeoisie did not succeed in transcending
the economic-corporate phase, i.e. in creating a State 'with the consent of the
governed' and capable of developing. The development of the State proved
possible only as a principality, not as a communal republic". (Ris., p. 9). "On
the fact that the communal bourgeoisie did not succeed in transcending the
corporative phase and hence cannot be said to have created a State, since it was

54

GRAMSGi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

rapid and vigorous revolution like the French one. This is one of the
most important problems, one of the most fertile causes of serious
difficulties, in writing the history of the subaltern social groups and
hence the (past) history tout court of the Italian States.

The history of subaltern social groups is necessarily fragmented

rather the Church and the Empire which constituted States, i.e. on the fact that
the Communes did not transcend feudalism, it is necessary before writing anything,
to read Gioacchino Volpe's book II Medioevo." (Ris., p. 10). "It is necessary to
determine what significance the 'State' had in the Communal State: a limited
'corporative' significance, which meant that it was unable to develop beyond
middle feudalism, i.e. that which succeeded the absolute feudalism without a
third estate, so to speak which had existed before the year a.d. iooo, and which
was itself succeeded by the absolute monarchy in the fifteenth century, up to the
French Revolution. There was an organic transition from the Commune to a
system that was no longer feudal in the Low Countries, and there alone. In Italy,
the Communes were unable to go beyond the corporative phase, feudal anarchy
triumphed in a form appropriate to the new situation and then came the period
of foreign domination." (Ris., p. 18). In a note in which Gramsci sketches out a
plan of historical research {II Risorgimento e la Storia Precedente, Ris., p. 3), he
devotes a section to "Middle Ages, or epoch of the Communes, in which the new
urban social groups are formed in molecular fashion, without the process reaching
the higher phase of maturation as in France, Spain, etc.". Despite their frag-
mentary character, Gramsci's notes on "The Mediaeval Commune as the
economic-corporative phase of the modem State" are clearly fundamental to his
entire analysis of the specificity of Italian historical development. See also, e.g.
"A further criterion of research must be borne in mind, in order to emphasise the
dangers inherent in the method of historical analogy as an interpretative criterion.
In the ancient and mediaeval State alike, centralisation, whether political-
territorial or social (and the one is merely a function of the other), was minimal.
The State was, in a certain sense, a mechanical bloc of social groups, often of
different race : within the circle of political-military compression, which was only
exercised harshly at certain moments, the subaltern groups had a life of their own,
institutions of their own, etc., and sometimes these institutions had State functions
which made of the State a federation of social groups with disparate functions not
subordinated in any way a situation which in periods of crisis highlighted with
extreme clarity the phenomenon of 'dual power'. The only group excluded from
any organised collective life of its own was that of the slaves (and such proletarians
as were not slaves) in the classical world, and is that of the proletarians, the serfs
and the peasants in the mediaeval world. However, even though, from many
points of view, the slaves of the ancient world and the mediaeval proletariat were
in the same conditions, their situation was not identical: the attempted revolt by
the Ciompi [in Florence in 1378] certainly did not have the impact that a similar
attempt by the slaves of antiquity would have produced (Spartacus demanding
to be taken into the government in collaboration with the plebs, etc.). While in the
Middle Ages an alliance between proletarians and people, and even more so the
support of the proletarians for the dictatorship of a prince, was possible, nothing
similar was possible for the slaves of the classical world. The modem State substi-
tutes for the mechanical bloc of social groups their subordination to the active
hegemony of the directive and dominant group, hence abolishes certain auto-
nomies, which nevertheless are reborn in other forms, as parties, trade unions,
cultural associations. The contemporary dictatorships legally abolish these new
forms of autonomy as well, and strive to incorporate them within State activity:
the legal centralisation of the entire national life in the hands of the dominant
group becomes 'totalitarian'." (Ris., pp. 195-6.)

NOTES ON ITALIAN HISTORY

55

and episodic. There undoubtedly does exist a tendency to (at least
provisional stages- of) unification in the historical activity of these
groups, but this tendency is continually interrupted by the activity
of the ruling groups; it therefore can only be demonstrated when an
historical cycle is completed and this cycle culminates in a success.
Subaltern groups are always subject to the activity of ruling groups,
even when they rebel and rise p: only "permanent" victory breaks
their subordination, and thai not immediately. In reality, even
when they appear triumphant, the subaltern groups are merely
anxious to defend themselves (a truth which can be demonstrated
by the history of the French Revolution at least up to 1830). Every
trace of independent initiative on the part of subaltern groups
should therefore be of incalculable value for the integral historian.
Consequently, this kind of history can only be dealt with mono-
graphically, and each monograph requires an immense quantity of
material which is often hard to collect. [1934-35]

THE PROBLEM OF POLITICAL LEADERSHIP IN THE FORMATION AND
DEVELOPMENT OF THE NATION AND THE MODERN STATE IN ITALY 8

The whole problem of the connection between the various political
currents of the Risorgimento — of their relations with each other,

5 There is a real problem in translating the Italian "dirigere" and its compounds:
direzione, dirigente, diretto, direttivo, etc. Dirigere" means to "direct, lead, rule";
when, as here, Gramsci counterposes it to "dominare" we translate it "to lead".
"Dirigente" is the present participle of "dirigere" — e.g. "classe dirigente" is the
standard equivalent of "ruling class" — and as a noun is the normal word for
(political) "leader" ; where Gramsci uses it, as in this passage, in counter position
to "dominante" we have translated it as "leading". "Diretto" as an adjective means
"direct", as a past participle has been translated "led". "Direttivo" has been
translated "directive , although there is not really any such adjective in English.
"Direzione" covers the various meanings of the word "direction" in English, but
is also the normal word for "leadership", and has usually been translated as such
here. It could be argued that a better English version would be achieved, without
distorting Gramsci's thought, by regarding "direzione" and "egemonia" as inter-
changeable. After all, not only does Gramsci usually use them interchangeably; it
is also the case that, for example, in the standard English translation of Lenin, e.g.
in "Two Tactics of Social-Democracy", the word "hegemony" is used to translate
"rukovodstvo", which could equally well be translated "leadership", and would
certainly normally be translated as "direzione" in Italian. However, in view of the
importance of these concepts in Gramsci's work, and the variations in his usage
of them, we felt it preferable to choose fidelity over good English — despite the
awkwardness of "lead" and "leading" in some passages.

Moreover, Gramsci certainly does not always use "egemonia" interchangeably
with "direzione" he sometimes uses it as the equivalent of "direzione" plus
"dominazione", e.g. in the last passage quoted in the preceding note. For Gramsci's
more usual use of this important concept, see especially MS. pp. 201—2: "Croces*
thought must therefore, at the very least, be appreciated as an instrumental value.

56

GRAMSCi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

and of their relations with the homogeneous or subordinate social
groups existing in the various historical sections (or sectors) of the
national territory — can be reduced to the following basic factual

Thus it can be said that he has drawn attention energetically to the importance of
cultural and intellectual facts in historical development; to the function of great
intellectuals in the organic life of civil society and the State; to the moment of
hegemony and consent as a necessary form of the concrete historical bloc. That
this is not something 'futile' is proved by the fact that, contemporaneously with
Croce, the greatest modern theoretician of the philosophy of praxis [Lenin], on
the terrain of political struggle and organisation and with a political terminology,
gave new weight in opposition to the various 'economist' tendencies to the
front of cultural struggle, and constructed the doctrine of hegemony as a comple-
ment to the theory of the State-as-force, and as the present form of the Forty-
Eightist doctrine of 'permanent revolution'. For the philosophy of praxis, the
conception of ethical-political history, in as much as it is independent of any
realistic conception, can be accepted as an 'empirical canon' of historical research,
to be kept continually in mind while studying and analysing historical develop-
ment, if it is desired to arrive at an integral history and not one that is partial
and extrinsic (history of economic forces as such, etc.)." See too LC. pp. 482-83:
"My study on intellectuals is a vast project. . . . Moreover, I extend the notion of
intellectual considerably, and do not limit myself to the habitual meaning, which
refers only to great intellectuals. This study also leads to certain determinations of
the concept of State, which is usually understood as political society (or dictator-
ship ; or coercive apparatus to bring the mass of the people into conformity with
the specific type of production and the specific economy at a given moment) and
not as an equilibrium between political society and civil society (or hegemony of
a social group over the entire national society exercised through the so-called
private organisations, like the Church, the trade unions, the schools, etc.) ; it is
precisely in civil society that intellectuals operate especially (Benedetto Croce, for
example, is a kind of lay pope and an extremely efficient instrument of hegemony —
even if at times he may find himself in disagreement with one government or
another, etc.). This conception of the function of intellectuals, I believe, throws
light on the reason, or one of the reasons, for the fall of the mediaeval communes,
i.e. of the rule of an economic class which did not prove able to create its own
category of intellectuals and thus exercise a hegemony as well as a dictatorship.
The Italian intellectuals did not have a national-popular character, but one that
was cosmopolitan on the model of the Church ; it was a matter of indifference to
Leonardo whether he sold the designs for the fortifications of Florence to Duke
Valentino. The Communes were thus a syndicalist state, which did not succeed
in transcending this phase and becoming an integral State as Machiavelli vainly
urged; the latter attempted, by reorganising the army, to organise the hegemony
of the city over the countryside, and he can therefore be called the first Italian
Jacobin (the second was Carlo Cattaneo, but he had too many strange fancies
in his head). It thus follows that the Renaissance should be considered a re-
actionary and repressive movement, in contrast to the development of the
Communes, etc." See too NM. p. 160: "Hegemony and Democracy. Of the
many meanings of democracy, the most realistic and concrete one in my view can
be worked out in relation to the concept of 'hegemony'. In the hegemonic system,
there exists democracy between the 'leading' group and the groups which are
'led', in so far as the development of the economy and thus the legislation which
expresses such development favour the (molecular) passage from the 'led' groups
to the 'leading' group. In the Roman Empire there was an imperial-territorial
democracy in the concession of citizenship to the conquered peoples, etc. There
could be no democracy under feudalism, because of the constitution of the closed
groups [i.e. estates, corporations, etc.] etc."

In an earlier draft of 1920-30, this long note on the Risorgimento was entitled

NOTES ON ITALIAN HISTORY

57

datum. The Moderates 6 represented a relatively homogeneous
social group, and hence their leadership underwent relatively
limited oscillations (in any case, subject to an organically pro-
gressive line of development) ; whereas the so-called Action Party 7
did not base itself specifically on any historical class, and the
oscillations which its leading organs underwent were resolved, in
the last analysis, according to the interests of the Moderates. In
other words, the Action Party was led historically by the Moderates.
The assertion attributed to Victor Emmanuel II that he "had the
Action Party in his pocket", or something of the kind, was in
practice accurate — not only because of the King's personal contacts
with Garibaldi, but because the Action Party was in fact "indirectly"
led by Cavour and the King.

The methodological criterion on which our own study must be
based is the following : that the supremacy of a social group mani-
fests itself in two ways, as "domination" and as "intellectual and
moral leadership". A social group dominates antagonistic groups,
which it tends to "liquidate", or to subjugate perhaps even by armed
force; it leads kindred and allied groups. A social group can, and
indeed must, already exercise "leadership" before winning govern-
mental power (this indeed is one of the principal conditions for the
winning of such power) ; it subsequently becomes dominant when

"Class political leadership before and after attaining governmental power". Two
of its key passages then read as follows: "... a class is dominant in two ways, i.e.
'leading' and 'dominant'. It leads the classes which are its allies, and dominates
those which are its enemies. Therefore, even before attaining power a class can
(and must) 'lead'; when it is in power it becomes dominant, but continues to
'lead' as well . . . there can and must be a 'political hegemony* even before the
attainment of governmental power, and one should not count solely on the power
and material force which such a position gives in order to exercise political leader-
ship or hegemony."

* The Moderate Party, formally constituted in 1848, had grown out of the
neo-Guelph movement (see note 9 on p. 58) . Its first document was C. Balbo's
Le speranze (Tltalia (1844), and its ideas inspired the reforms of 1846-47. It stood
initially for a confederation of the Italian States, and demanded reforms and written
constitutions in each state. It was to some extent eclipsed in 1849, but its influence
increased during the ten years from 1849 5g, under the leadership of d'Azeglio
and Cavour. It abandoned federalism, and was in fact the main instrument, at the
level of political institutions, of national unification in 1859-61, and the main
beneficiary of the Risorgimento. After Cavour's death in 1861, it became the
Right in the Italian parliament, and held power until 1876.

' The Partito d'Aziane was founded by Mazzini in March 1853, after the defeat
of the February rising in Milan and the dissolution of the Associazione Naziondle
Italiana. It was republican, but its ambiguous aims were symbolised by its motto
"Dio e popolo" (God and the people) . After several years of tenuous existence, it
was revitalised by Garibaldi's influence in 1 859, and played an important role in
the organisation of the Sicilian expedition of the Thousand. After the unification
of the country, most of its members joined the parliamentary "Left", a minority
the tiny Republican Party.

Ij8 GRAMSGi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

it exercises power, but even if it holds it firmly in its grasp, it must
continue to "lead" as well. The Moderates continued to lead the
Action Party even after 1870 and 1876, and so-called "trans-
formism" 8 was only the parliamentary expression of this action of
intellectual, moral and political hegemony. Indeed one might say
that the entire State life of Italy from 1848 onwards has been
characterised by transformism — in other words by the formation of
an ever more extensive ruling class, within the framework estab-
lished by the Moderates after 1848 and the collapse of the neo-
Guelph 9 and federalist 10 Utopias. The formation of this class involved

8 Trasformismo. This term was used from the 1880s onwards to describe the
process whereby the so-called "historic" Left and Right parties which emerged
from the Risorgimento tended to converge in terms of programme during the
years which followed, until there ceased to be any substantive difference between
them especially after the "Left" came to power under Depretis in 1876 (see
note 23 on p. 227 below) and the latter began to recruit his ministers indis-
criminately from both sides of the parliament. The two main parties disintegrated
into personal cliques and factions, which characterised Italian parliamentary life
until fascism. The emergence of the Socialist Party from the turn of the century
onwards did begin a process of polarisation of politics along class lines a process
which was arrested by fascism before the bourgeoisie had created a viable political
party of its own (although the Popular Party see note 14 on p. 62 was an attempt
to do this). See too Gramsci's note (Ris. p. 157) entitled It trasformismo: "Trans-
formism as one of the historical forms of what has already been noted about
'revolution-restoration' or 'passive revolution', with respect to the process of
formation of a modern State in Italy. Transformism as a 'real historical document'
of the real nature of the parties which appeared as extremist in the period of
militant activity [Parliio d'Azione) . Two periods of transformism : 1. from i860 to
igoo 'molecular' transformism, i.e. individual political figures formed by the
democratic opposition parties are incorporated individually into the conservative-
moderate 'political class' (characterised by its aversion to any intervention of the
popular masses in state life, to any organic reform which would substitute a
'hegemony' for the crude, dictatorial 'dominance') ; 2. from 1 900 onwards trans-
formism of entire groups of leftists who pass over to the moderate camp (the first
event is the formation of the nationalist party, with ex syndicalist and anarchist
groups, which culminates in the Libyan war in the first instance and subsequently
in interventionism) . Between the two periods one can discern an intermediate
phase (1890- igoo) in which a mass of intellectuals joins the parties of the Left
so-called socialist, but in reality simply democratic." See too note 6 on p. 57.

6 Neo-Guelphism was a liberal catholic movement in Italy in the first half of
the nineteenth century. The term was coined by its enemies (the Guelphs had
been the Papal party in mediaeval and pre-renaissance Italy), but was accepted
by its members who were quite willing to be identified with the pre-renaissance
Papacy, which they saw as symbolising Italian unity and independence. Their
aim was an Italian federation under the Pope. Prominent neo-Guelphs included
Gioberti (see note 36 on p. 399) and Manzoni, the author of The Betrothed (see
note 73 on p. 375). The movement's ideals were definitively proved illusory when
the Risorgimento created a national Italian state under the Piedmont monarchy,
and when the Pope refused to come to terms with that state; most of its members
in fact then rallied to the monarchy. It can be seen as a precursor of the Popular
Party (see note 14 on p. 62) and hence ultimately of the Christian Democrat
Party of today.

10 There were various federalist tendencies in pre-Risorgimento Italy, in

NOTES ON ITALIAN HISTORY

59

the gradual but continuous absorption, achieved by methods which
varied in their effectiveness, of the active elements produced by
allied groups — and even of those which came from antagonistic
groups and seemed irreconcilably hostile. In this sense political
leadership became merely an aspect of the function of domination —
in as much as the absorption of the enemies' elites means their
decapitation, and annihilation often for a very long time. It seems
clear from the policies of the Moderates that there can, and indeed
must, be hegemonic activity even before the rise to power, and that
one should not count only on the material force which power gives
in order, to exercise an effective leadership. It was precisely the
brilliant solution of these problems which made the Risorgimento
possible, in the form in which it was achieved (and with its limita-
tions) — as "revolution" without a "revolution", or as "passive
revolution" to use an expression of Cuoco's in a slightly different
sense from that which Cuoco intended. 11

In what forms, and by what means, did the Moderates succeed
in establishing the apparatus (mechanism) of their intellectual,
moral and political hegemony ? In forms, and by means, which may

opposition to the unitary conception of the future Italian state held on the one
hand by Mazzini and Garibaldi, and on the other by Cavour and the Piedmont
monarchy. These tendencies ranged from the neo-Guelph federalism of Gioberti
and the moderate liberal federalism of Balbo and d'Azeglio (see foregoing notes)
to the radical liberal federalism of Cattaneo (see note 112 on p. 112) and the
democratic-republican federalism of Ferrari (see note 23 on p. 65).

11 Vincenzo Cuoco (1770-1823) was a Neapolitan conservative thinker of great
influence in the early stages of the Risorgimento. He played a minor role in the
Parthenopean Republic of 1 79,9, (see note 63 on p. 92) —out of a sense of public duty
(he was a life long functionary) rather than out of any particular commitment to
its ideals and was exiled in consequence. In exile he read Burke and De Maistre,
and came to the view that revolution must at all costs be avoided, since it was a
destroyer of the "traditions" on which civilisation is based. In his "Historical
Essay on the Neapolitan Republic of 1 799", he described the episode as a passive
revolution, because it was the work of an "enlightened" bourgeois class, "abstract
rationalists", "Jacobins", imitating French models (and backed by French armies),
and involved no mass participation. In the years which followed he came, para-
doxically, to argue precisely in favour of such "passive revolutions", in that his
main thesis was the need to put through reforms in order to prevent revolution on
the French model. He was an enthusiastic supporter of Napoleonic rule, and
became a public official under it (1806 15). He can be seen as the theorist
of what Gramsci termed (after Edgar Quinet) "revolution-restoration". See
MS. pp. 184 85: "One should study the way in which the critical formula of
Vincenzo Cuoco on the 'passive revolutions', which when it was formulated (after
the tragic experiment of the Parthenopean Republic of 1799) was meant as a
warning, to create a national mood of greater energy and popular revolutionary
initiative, was converted in the minds of the neo-Guelphs and Moderates, in their
state of social panic, into a positive conception, into a political programme . . . the
determination to abdicate and capitulate at the first serious threat of an Italian
revolution that would be profoundly popular, i.e. radically national."

6o

GRAMSCI: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

be called "liberal" — in other words through individual, "molecular",
"private" enterprise (i.e. not through a party programme worked
out and constituted according to a plan, in advance of the practical
and organisational action). However, that was "normal" given the
structure and the function of the social groups of which the
Moderates were the representatives, the leading stratum, the
organic intellectuals. 12

For the Action Party, the problem presented itself differently,
and different systems of organisation should have been adopted.
The Moderates were intellectuals already naturally "condensed"
by the organic nature of their relation to the social groups whose
expression they were. (As far as a whole series of them were con-
cerned, there was realised the identity of the represented and the
representative; in other words, the Moderates were a real, organic
vanguard of the upper classes, to which economically they belonged.
They were intellectuals and political organisers, and at the same
time company bosses, rich farmers or estate managers, commercial
and industrial entrepreneurs, etc.) Given this organic condensation
or concentration, the Moderates exercised a powerful attraction
"spontaneously", on the whole mass of intellectuals of every degree
who existed in the peninsula, in a "diffused", "molecular" state, to
provide for the requirements, however rudimentarily satisfied, of
education and administration. One may detect here the methodo-
logical consistency of a criterion of historico-political research: there
does not exist any independent class of intellectuals, but every social
group has its own stratum of intellectuals, or tends to form one;
however, the intellectuals of the historically (and concretely) pro-
gressive class, in the given conditions, exercise such a power of
attraction that, in the last analysis, they end up by subjugating the
intellectuals of the other social groups; they thereby create a system
of solidarity between all the intellectuals, with bonds of a psycho-
logical nature (vanity, etc.) and often of a caste character (technico-
juridical, corporate, etc.). This phenomenon manifests itself
"spontaneously" in the historical periods in which the given social
group is really progressive — i.e. really causes the whole society to
move forward, not merely satisfying its own existential require-
ments, but continuously augmenting its cadres for the conquest of
ever new spheres of economic and productive activity. As soon as
the dominant social group has exhausted its function, the ideological

12 For the concept of "organic intellectuals", see "The Formation of the
Intellectuals" on pp. 5 14 above.

NOTES ON ITALIAN HISTORY

61

bloc tends to crumble away; then "spontaneity" may be replaced
by "constraint" in ever less disguised and indirect forms, culmina-
ting in outright police measures and coups d'etat.

The Action Party not only could not have — given its character —
a similar power of attraction, but was itself attracted and influenced:
on the one hand, as a result of the atmosphere of intimidation (panic
fear of a terror like that of 1 793, reinforced by the events in France
of 1848-49) which made it hesitate to include in its programme
certain popular demands (for instance, agrarian reform) ; and, on
the other, because certain of its leading personalities (Garibaldi)
had, even if only desultorily (they wavered), a relationship of
personal subordination to the Moderate leaders. For the Action
Party to have become an autonomous force and, in the last analysis,
for it to have succeeded at the very least in stamping the movement
of the Risorgimento with a more markedly popular and democratic
character (more than that perhaps it could not have achieved, given
the fundamental premisses of the movement itself), it would have
had to counterpose to the "empirical" activity of the Moderates
(which was empirical only in a manner of speaking, since it corre-
sponded perfectly to the objective) an organic programme of
government which would reflect the essential demands of the
popular masses, and in the first place of the peasantry. To the
"spontaneous" attraction of the Moderates it would have had to
counterpose a resistance and a counter-offensive "organised"
according to a plan.

As a typical example of spontaneous attraction by the Moderates,
one might recall the formation and development of the "liberal-
catholic" movement 13 which scared the Papacy so much — partially
succeeding in paralysing its movements; demoralising it; in an
initial period pushing it too far to the left (with the liberalising
measures of Pius IX) ; in a subsequent period driving it into a more
right-wing position than it need have adopted; and in the last
analysis being the cause of its isolation in the peninsula and in
Europe. The Papacy has since demonstrated that it has learnt its
lesson, and has shown itself capable in more recent times of

13 Liberal catholic movements developed in several European countries —
France, Belgium, Italy, England, etc in the early and mid-nineteenth century.
In Italy they included notably the neo-Guelphs (see note 9 on p. 58). Their
common ideological basis was an acceptance of the main body of bourgeois liberal
thought at the time. In Italy, after the blow of the Pope's withdrawal to the
Lateran in 1870, liberal Catholicism more or less disappeared, but as Gramsci
points out it can be seen as a precursor of the "Modernist" movement (see following
note).

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manoeuvring brilliantly. Modernism first, and later Popularism, 1 *
are movements resembling the liberal-catholic movement of the
Risorgimento, due in great part to the power of spontaneous
attraction exercised on the one hand by the modern historicism of
the secular intellectuals of the upper classes, and on the other by the
practical movement of the philosophy of praxis. 15 The Papacy
combated Modernism as a tendency aimed at reforming the Church
and the Catholic religion, but it encouraged Popularism — i.e. the
socio-economic basis of Modernism — and today with Pius XI is
making it the pivot of its world policies.

But the Action Party lacked even a concrete programme of
government. In essence it was always, more than anything else, an
agitational and propagandist body in the service of the Moderates.
The disagreements and internal conflicts of the Action Party, and
the tremendous hatred which Mazzini aroused among the more
valiant men of action (Garibaldi, Felice Orsini, 18 etc.) against
himself personally and against his activities, were caused by the
lack of any firm political leadership. These internal polemics were
for the most part as abstract as Mazzini's preaching, but it is
possible to draw useful historical indications from them (it is
enough to quote the example of Pisacane's 17 writings, despite the

14 Modernism was an intellectual movement which developed among catholics
in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Its proclaimed aims were to
bring the Church into harmony with the culture and society of the contemporary
world — especially with new developments in scientific and sociological thinking.
It was condemned by the Papal decree Lamenlabili and the Encyclical Pascendi in
1907. However, via the work notably of Romolo Murri, it was an important
ideological ancestor of contemporary Christian Democracy.

The Popular Party was founded by Luigi Sturzo and others in January 1919.
Based on sociaUchristian ideas current throughout Europe at the time, it was
encouraged initially by the Papacy (as a political movement directed outwards,
and not towards reform of the Church itself like Modernism). It grew swiftly —
especially in the agricultural areas of North and Central Italy, where it set up
"white" unions whose strength among the small peasants often outstripped that of
their "red" rivals. After vacillating in its attitude towards fascism between 1921-25
(Sturzo was not prepared to accept Papal pressure for an accommodation), it was
suppressed in 1925 26 like the other opposition parties. After the fall of fascism,
it re-emerged as the Christian Democrat Party.

16 i.e. Modernism and Popularism were a result of- — and aimed to counteract —
the influence of Croce and Gentile on the one hand, and of socialism on the other.

M Felice Orsini (1819-58). After participating in the early stages of the
Risorgimento as a follower of Mazzini, he broke with the latter in the mid-sos
and made an attempt in 1858 to assassinate Napoleon III, for which he was
executed.

*' Carlo Pisacane (1818-57) was a prominent Risorgimento man of action and
military theorist, notable for his advocacy of the creation of peasant armies and a
"war of national insurrection". Gramsci commended his perception of the need
for a "Jacobin" element in the Risorgimento, but said that he should be compared
to the Russian Narodniks. Bom in Naples, of aristocratic origins, he became a

NOTES ON ITALIAN HISTORY 63

fact that he committed irreparable political and military errors,
such as opposing Garibaldi's military dictatorship in the Roman
Republic). The Action Party was steeped in the traditional, rhetoric
of Italian literature. It confused the cultural unity which existed in
the peninsula — confined, however, to a very thin stratum of the
population, and polluted by the Vatican's cosmopolitanism — with
the political and territorial unity of the great popular masses, who
were foreign to that cultural tradition and who, even supposing
that they knew of its existence, couldn't care less about it. A
comparison may be made between the Jacobins and the Action
Party. The Jacobins strove with determination to ensure a bond
between town and country, and they succeeded triumphantly.
Their defeat as a specific party was due to the fact that at a certain
point they came up against the demands of the Paris workers; but
in reality they were perpetuated in another form by Napoleon, and
today, very wretchedly, by the radical-socialists of Herriot and
Daladier.

In French political literature, the necessity of binding the town
(Paris) to the countryside had always been vividly felt and expressed.
It is enough to recall the series of novels by Eugene Sue, 18 very
widely disseminated in Italy too (Fogazzaro in his novel Piccolo
Mondo Antico shows Franco Maironi receiving clandestinely from
Switzerland the successive episodes of the Mysteres du Peuple; these
were in fact burnt at the hands of the public executioner in certain
European cities — Vienna, for example). Sue's novels stress with
particular insistence the necessity of having a concern for the
peasantry, and of binding it to Paris. And Sue was the popular
novelist of the Jacobin political tradition, and a "primary source"

military engineer. In 1847 he fled from Naples and joined the Foreign Legion. In
1848 he returned to Italy when fighting broke out in Milan, and arrived in Rome
in March 1849 after the proclamation of the republic (see note go on p. 102). He
became the moving spirit of the city's War Council, and as commander-in-chief
organised the city's defences before Mazzini's appointment of General Rosselli
(see note 111 on p. 112). After the fall of the republic, he withdrew to Genoa, and
published his Guerra combattuta in Italia negli anni 1848-49, in which he expressed
his disagreements with Garibaldi. He opposed Garibaldi's conception of revo-
lutionary dictatorship as too purely military, and undemocratic since it did not
involve the masses. Pisacane committedsuicide in 1857 after thefailure of a landing
at Sapri south of Naples.

18 Eugene Sue ( 1 804-57) was the author of a series of extremely popular novels
of Paris life published by instalments in the 1840s and 1850s, e.g. Les Mysteres de
Paris (1842-43), Le Juif Errant (1844 45), Les Sept Peches Capitaux (1847 49), Les
Mysteres du Peuple (1849 57). Set in a popular milieu, they contained a mish-mash
of vaguely humanitarian and democratic ideas. Les Mysteres di Paris and its idealistic
interpreters were savagely lampooned by Marx in The Holy Family.

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for Herriot and Daladier 19 from many points of view (Napoleonic
legend, anti-clericalism and anti-Jesuitism, petty bourgeois re-
formism, penal theories, etc.).

It is true that the Action Party was always implicitly anti-French
by virtue of its Mazzinian ideology (compare Omodeo's essay on
French Supremacy and Italian Initiative, in Critica, 1929, pp. 223 ff.),
but it found in the history of the peninsula a tradition to which it
could go back and attach itself. The history of the mediaeval
Communes 20 is rich in relevant experiences: the nascent bourge-
oisie seeks allies among the peasants against the Empire and against
the local feudalism. (It is true that the question is complicated by
the struggle between bourgeoisie and nobles competing for cheap
labour. The bourgeoisie needs an abundant supply of labour, which
can only be provided by the rural masses — but the nobles want the
peasants tied to the soil: flight of the peasants into the cities where
the nobles cannot capture them. In any case, even though the
situation is different, there is apparent in the development of
Communal civilisation the function of the city as a directive
element, of the city which deepens the internal conflicts of the
countryside and uses them as a politico-military instrument to
strike down feudalism.) But the most classic master of the art of
politics for the Italian ruling classes, Machiavelli, had also posed
the problem — naturally in the terms and with the preoccupations
of his time. In his politico-military writings, the need to subordinate
the popular masses organically to the ruling strata, so as to create
a national militia capable of eliminating the companies of fortune,
was quite well understood. 21 Carlo Pisacane should perhaps be
connected with this theme in Machiavelli; for him, the problem of
satisfying popular demands (after having aroused them by means
of propaganda) is seen mainly from the military point of view.
With regard to Pisacane, certain contradictions in his conception
need to be analysed. Pisacane, a Neapolitan nobleman, had suc-
ceeded in acquiring a series of politico-military concepts put into
circulation by the military experiences of the French Revolution
and of Napoleon, and transplanted to Naples during the reigns of

18 French "Radicals" prominent in the twenties and thirties — both were prime
ministers.

20 See note 4 on p. 53.

21 For Machiavelli's project for a citizen's militia, see introduction to "The
Modern Prince". The companies of fortune were the mercenary armies led by
condottieri which roved Italy in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries and in
numerous cases took power in the cities which employed them, and founded
dynasties.

NOTES ON ITALIAN HISTORY

6 5

Joseph Bonaparte and of Joachim Murat 22 — but especially through
the direct experience of the Neapolitan officers who had fought
with Napoleon.* Pisacane understood that without a democratic
policy it is impossible to have national armies with compulsory
conscription, but his aversion for Garibaldi's strategy and his
mistrust of Garibaldi are inexplicable. He had the same scornful
attitude towards Garibaldi that the General Staffs of the ancien
regime had towards Napoleon.

The other figure who needs to be studied for these problems of
the Risorgimento is Giuseppe Ferrari, 23 but not so much for his
so-called major works — real hotch-potches of muddle and confu-
sion — as for his occasional pamphlets and letters. Ferrari, however,
was to a great extent outside the concrete reality of Italy; he had
become too gallicised. Often his judgements appear more acute than
they really are, since he applied to Italy French schemas, which
represented conditions considerably more advanced than those to
be found in Italy. One may say that Ferrari, in relation to Italy,
found himself in the position of a "descendant", and that his
wisdom was in a certain sense "hindsight". The politician, however,
must be an effective man of action, working on the present. Ferrari
did not see that an intermediary link was missing between the
Italian and French situations, and that it was precisely this link
which had to be welded fast for it to be possible to pass on to the next.
Ferrari was incapable of "translating" what was French into some-
thing Italian, and hence his very "acuteness" became an element
of confusion, stimulated new sects and little schools, but did not
impinge on the real movement.

If one goes deeper into the question, it appears that from many
aspects the difference between many members of the Action Party
and the Moderates was more one of "temperament" than of an
organically political character. The term "Jacobin" has ended up
by taking on two meanings: there is the literal meaning, charac-

22 Joseph Bonaparte, Napoleon's brother, was King of the Two Sicilies from
1806-8; Murat was King from 1808-15.

* In his obituary of Cadorna in Nuova Antologia, 1 March ig2g, M. Missiroli
insists on the importance that this Neapolitan experience and military tradition
had, through Pianell f or example, in the reorganisation of the Italian army alter
1870.

23 Giuseppe Ferrari (1811-76), philosopher and historian. Living in exile in
France from 1838-59, he wrote various works putting forward a democratic-
republican federalist point of view. He returned to I taly in 1 859, and was active
in parliamentary politics until his death, as a more or less isolated radical figure
who stood outside the process of transformism which characterised Italian parlia-
mentary life in those years. See pp. 75-6 below.

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terised historically, of a particular party in the French Revolution,
which conceived of the development of French life in a particular
way, with a particular programme, on the basis of particular social
forces; and there are also the particular methods of party and
government activity which they displayed, characterised by extreme
energy, decisiveness and resolution, dependent on a fanatical belief
in the virtue of that programme and those methods. In political
language the two aspects of Jacobinism were split, and the term
"Jacobin" came to be used for a politician who was energetic,
resolute and fanatical, because fanatically convinced of the thau-
maturgical virtues of his ideas, whatever they might be. This
definition stressed the destructive elements derived from hatred of
rivals and enemies, more than the constructive one derived from
having made the demands of the popular masses one's own; the
sectarian element of the clique, of the small group, of unrestrained
individualism, more than the national political element. Thus,
when one reads that Crispi 24 was a Jacobin, it is in this derogatory
sense that the assertion should be understood. In his programme,
Crispi was a Moderate pure and simple. His most noble Jacobin
"obsession" was the politico-territorial unity of the country. This
principle was always the compass by which he took his direction,
not only in the period of the Risorgimento, in the strict sense, but in
the succeeding period as well, when he was a member of the
government. A man of strong passions, he hated the Moderates as
individuals: he saw in them the latecomers, the heroes of the
eleventh hour; people who would have made peace with the old
regimes if these had become constitutional ; people like the Tuscan
Moderates, who clung to the Grand Duke's coat-tails, afraid that
he might run away. He had little trust in a unity achieved by
non-unitarians. Hence he tied himself to the monarchy, which he
realised would be resolutely unitarian for dynastic reasons, and
embraced the principle of Piedmontese hegemony with an energy
and ardour which the very Piedmontese politicians themselves

84 Francesco Crispi (1818-igoi). At first a Sicilian autonomist, he became
linked with Mazzini and converted to the aim of a unitary post-Rjsorgimento
Italian state. In 1859 he organised an insurrection in Sicily, and played an
important part in Garibaldi's expedition of i860. After the achievement of
national unity, he became a parliamentary deputy of the Left. In 1865 he broke
with Mazzini and rallied to the monarchy. He was Minister of the Interior and
Prime Minister on various occasions between 1876 and i8g6, and was the most
consistent advocate of Italian colonial expansion, notably into Ethiopia. In
1893-94 ne repressed the Sicilian Fasci (see following note) with extreme savagery.
In many ways he can be seen as a precursor of the nationalist and fascist move-
ments of the twentieth century.

NOTES ON ITALIAN HISTORY 67

could not match. Cavour had warned that the South should not be
dealt with by placing it under martial law: Crispi on the contrary
at once established martial law and set up military courts in Sicily
after the Fasci movement, 25 and accused the leaders of the Fasci of
plotting with England for the secession of Sicily (pseudo-treaty of
Bisacquino). 26 He allied himself closely with the Sicilian lati-
fundists, since their fear of the demands of the peasantry made
them the stratum most dedicated to unity, at the same time as
overall policy was tending to reinforce Northern industrialism by
means of the tariff war against France and customs protectionism.
He did not hesitate to plunge the South and the Islands into a
terrifying commercial crisis, so long as he was able to reinforce the
industry which could give the country a real independence, and
which would expand the cadres of the dominant social group: this
is the policy of manufacturing the manufacturer. The government
of the Right from 1861 to 1876 had merely, and timidly, created the
general external conditions for economic development — rationali-
sation of the government apparatus, roads, railways, telegraph —
and had restored to health the country's finances, over-burdened
by the wars of the Risorgimento. The Left had attempted to remedy
the hatred aroused among the people by the Right's unilateral
fiscalism, but it had only succeeded in acting as a safety-valve: it
had continued the policies of the Right with a left-wing personnel
and phraseology. Crispi, on the other hand, gave the new Italian
society a real heave forward: he was the true man of the new
bourgeoisie. His figure, however, is characterised by a disproportion
between deeds and words, between the repressions and their objects,
between the instrument and the blow delivered; he handled a rusty
culverin as if it were a piece of modern artillerv. Crispi's colonial
policy too is connected with his obsession with unity, and in it he
proved able to understand the political innocence of the Mezzo-
giorno. The southern peasant wanted land, and Crispi, who did not
want to (or could not) give it to him in Italy itself, who had no wish
to go in for "economic Jacobinism", conjured up the mirage of

88 Fasci dei lavoratori ("workers' leagues"), led by socialists, spread throughout
Sicily in 1 892-93. They were basically peasant organisations, and their main aim
was the break-up of the big estates and distribution of the land. They had con-
siderable success in securing improved contracts between peasants and land-
owners in 1893. In 1893 94, under the impact of the economic crisis of that year,
the peasantry rose throughout the island, and was repressed with great brutality
by Crispi.

2> It was rumoured that contacts had taken place at Bisacquino, near Palermo,
between representatives of the Fasci and the English, with a view to detaching
Sicily from Italy and establishing it as an independent state.

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colonial lands to be exploited. Crispi's imperialism was passionate,
oratorical, without any economic or financial basis. Capitalist
Europe, rich in resources and arrived at the point at which the rate
of profit was beginning to reveal its tendency to fall, 27 had a need
to widen the area of expansion of its income-bearing investments;
thus, after 1890, the great colonial empires were created. But the
still immature Italy not only had no capital to export, but had to have
recourse to foreign capital for its own pressing needs. Hence there
was lacking any real drive behind Italian imperialism, and it was
substituted for by the strong popular passions of the peasants,
blindly intent on possessing land. It was a question of an exigency
of internal politics which had to be resolved, and was — by the side-
tracking of its solution to infinity. Hence Crispi's policy was opposed
by the (northern) capitalists themselves, who would more willingly
have seen employed in Italy the huge sums spent in Africa; but in the
South Crispi was popular for having created the "myth" of easy land.

Crispi left a profound stamp upon an enormous number of Sicilian
intellectuals (these especially, though he influenced all Italian
intellectuals, creating the first cells of a national socialism which was
later to develop vertiginously). 28 He created that unitarian fanati-
cism which brought about a permanent atmosphere of suspicion
against anything which might have the air of separatism. This,
however (understandably), did not prevent the Sicilian latifundists
from meeting in Palermo in 1920, and pronouncing a literal ulti-
matum against the government "of Rome", threatening secession;
just as it did not prevent several of these latifundists from continuing
to keep Spanish nationality, nor from calling on the Madrid
government's diplomatic intervention (case of the Duke of Bivona
in 1919) to safeguard their interests, threatened by the agitation of
the peasants back from the war. The attitude of the various social
groups in the Mezzogiorno from 19 19 to 1926 serves to reveal and
to emphasise certain weaknesses of the obsessively unitarian approach
of Crispi, and to emphasise certain corrections contributed to it by
Giolitti. These were very few in reality, since Giolitti essentially
kept to the furrow traced by Crispi. For the temperamental
Jacobinism of Crispi, Giolitti substituted bureaucratic diligence
and continuity; he kept up the "mirage of land" in colonial policy,

*' See Capital, Volume III, Section 3, and note 3 on p. 280 below.

88 i.e. the nationalist party, which as Gramsci showed in Alcuni temi was
effectively founded by ex-socialists and syndicalists (e.g. Corradini, with his
concept of the "proletarian nations"), and fascism, which claimed to be a national
socialism.

NOTES ON ITALIAN HISTORY

69

but he also propped up that policy with a "defensive" military
outlook, and with the premise that it was necessary to create the
conditions of freedom of expansion for the future. The episode of
the Sicilian latifundists' ultimatum in 1920 is not isolated, and
another interpretation of it could be suggested — from the precedent
of the Lombard upper classes, who on certain occasions threatened
to "go it alone" and to reconstitute the ancient Duchy of Milan
(a temporary policy of blackmail towards the government) — if the
authentic interpretation was not to be found in the campaigns run
by the Mattino from 19 19 until the dismissal of the Scarfoglio
brothers. 29 For it would be too ingenuous to think that these
campaigns were entirely suspended in mid-air, in other words not
related in some way to currents of public opinion and to states of
mind which had remained subterranean, latent, potential as a
result of the atmosphere of intimidation created by obsessive
unitarianism. The Mattino on two occasions defended the following
thesis: that the Mezzogiorno joined the Italian State on a con-
tractual basis, the Albertine Statute, 30 but that (implicitly) it
continues to preserve a real, concrete personality of its own, and
has the right to cast off the bonds of the unitary State if the con-
tractual basis is in any way prejudiced, i.e. if the 1848 constitution
is modified. This thesis was developed in 191 9-20 in the face of a
constitutional modification in one direction, and was repeated in
1924-25 against a change in the other direction. 31 One must keep
in mind the importance of the Mattino's role in the Mezzogiorno
(it was also the newspaper with the widest circulation). The
Mattino was always pro-Crispi and expansionist, setting the tone for
the South's ideology — created by the hunger for land and by the
sufferings of emigration, and inclining towards every vague form
of settler colonialism. The following points should also be recalled
about the Mattino: 1. its extremely violent campaign against the
North on the occasion of the attempt by the Lombard textile
magnates to gain control of certain Southern cotton industries; an
attempt which reached the point at which the plant was about to be

'* The brothers Carlo, Paolo and Antonio Scarfoglio inherited II Mattino of
Naples from their father, but were ousted by the Bank of Naples in 1928.

30 Carlo Alberto, King of Sardinia (Piedmont), granted a constitution to
Piedmont on 4 March 1 848. This "Albertine Statute" provided for a parliament,
with ministers responsible to it rather than to the King; it was subsequently
extended to the other regions which were annexed to form the Kingdom of Italy.

31 i.e. in 1 9 1 9-20 in view of the threat of a socialist revolution, and in 1 924 25
in view of the consolidation of fascist power and its progressive replacement of the
institutions of bourgeois democracy by its own dictatorial regime.

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transported to Lombardy, disguised as scrap metal in order to
evade the legislation on industrial zones; an attempt which was
precisely foiled by the newspaper, which went so far as to publish
a eulogy of the Bourbons and their economic policies (this happened
in 1923); 2. the "sorrowful", "nostalgic" commemoration of Maria
Sophia 32 published in 1925, which provoked a great fuss and
scandal.

To be sure, in order to evaluate this attitude of the Mattino,
certain qualifications have to be taken into account: the adventurous
character and the venality of the Scarfogli,* and their political and
ideological dilettantism. But it is necessary to insist on the fact that
the Mattino was the paper with the largest circulation in the
Mezzogiorno, and that the Scarfogli were born journalists, in other
words possessed that rapid and "sympathetic" intuition of the
deepest currents of popular feeling which makes possible the
dissemination of the yellow press.

Another element in evaluating the real significance of the
obsessedly unitary policies of Crispi is the complex of feelings
created in the North with regard to the Mezzogiorno. The poverty
of the Mezzogiorno was historically "inexplicable" for the popular
masses in the North; they did not understand that unity had not
taken place on a basis of equality, but as hegemony of the North

38 Maria Sophia (1841-1925) was the last Bourbon queen of the Two Sicilies.
After the fall of Gaeta in 1 86 1 , she and her husband Francesco II fled, first to
Rome and then after 1870 to exile in Paris and later Munich. She never ceased
to plan the restoration of the Bourbon monarchy.

* It should be recalled that Maria Sophia continually sought to intervene in
the internal affairs of Italy, through a thirst for vengeance if not with any hope of
restoring the kingdom of Naples even spending money for that purpose, as seems
to be beyond doubt. Unitd, in 1914 or 1915, published a sharp attack on Errico
Malatesta in which it was asserted that the events of June 1914" might have been
sponsored and financed by the Austrian General Staff through the medium of
2ita di Borbone, 84 given the relations of "friendship" seemingly never interrupted
between Malatesta and Maria Sophia; in his work Uomini e cose delta vecckia Italia
[Men and things of old Italy], B. Croce refers again to these relations in connection
with an attempt to rescue an anarchist who had committed a terrorist attack an
attempt which was followed by diplomatic representations to the French govern-
ment by that of Italy to stop these activities of Maria Sophia's. The anecdotes
about Maria Sophia recounted by Signora B., who used to visit the ex-queen in
191 9 to paint her portrait, should also be recalled. When all is said and done,
Malatesta never replied to these accusations, as he ought to have done, unless
(and this is highly doubtful) it is true that he replied in a letter to a clandestine
broadsheet, printed in France by S. Schicchi and called It Picconiere.

** i.e. the "Red Week" of Ancona, when troops fired on an anti-war demon-
stration whose culmination was a rally addressed by Malatesta, killing three
people and wounding fifteen more. This led to a general strike and demonstrations
throughout the country.

5,4 Zita di Borbone was the last Austro-Hungarian Empress.

NOTES ON ITALIAN HISTORY

71

over the Mezzogiorno in a territorial version of the town-country
relationship — in other words, that the North concretely was an
"octopus" which enriched itself at the expense of the South, and
that its economic-industrial increment was in direct proportion to
the impoverishment of the economy and the agriculture of the
South. The ordinary man from Northern Italy thought rather that,
if the Mezzogiorno made no progress after having been liberated
from the fetters which the Bourbon regime placed in the way of a
modern development, this meant that the causes of the poverty
were not external, to be sought in objective economic and political
conditions, but internal, innate in the population of the South —
and this all the more since there was a deeply-rooted belief in the
great natural wealth of the terrain. There only remained one
explanation — the organic incapacity of the inhabitants, their
barbarity, their biological inferiority. These already widespread
opinions (Neapolitan "vagabondry" 35 is a legend which goes
back a long way) were consolidated and actually theorised by the
sociologists of positivism (Niceforo, Sergi, Ferri, Orano, etc.), 84
acquiring the strength of "scientific truth" in a period of superstition
about science. Thus a polemic arose between North and South on
the subject of race, and about the superiority or inferiority of North
and South (compare N. Colajanni's books defending the Mezzo-
giorno in this respect, 87 and the whole series of the Rivista Popolare).
Meanwhile, in the North there persisted the belief that the Mezzo-
giorno was a "ball and chain" for Italy, the conviction that the
modern industrial civilisation of Northern Italy would have made
greater progress without this "ball and chain", etc. The early years
of this century then saw the beginnings of a strong Southern reaction
on this very subject. In the Sardinian Congress of 191 1, held under
the presidency of General Rugiu, a calculation was made of how

86 " Lazzaronisnw" , from Iazzaroni or lazzari, from the Spanish lazaro — poor
(which in turns derives from the Biblical figure of Lazarus the beggar). From the
sixteenth century onwards this word was applied by the Spanish rulers to the
urban "mob" of Naples (and thence by extension of other cities). In Naples, this
sub-proletariat was strongly monarchist, and in 1 799 it rose in the Sanfedista rising
against the bourgeois Jacobin regime of the Parthenopean Republic. It continued
to be the bastion of the Bourbons to the end. The term itself was pejorative,
stressing the wretched condition of that sub proletariat and its supposed laziness
and dishonesty, and it is these connotations to which Gramsci is referring here.

8 » Alfredo Niceforo, born 1876, was a sociologist and criminologist who wrote
numerous studies on poverty, crime, etc., notably in Naples where he held a
university post. In Italiani del Nord e Itaiiani del Sud he argued the biological
inferiority of Southern Italians. Similar arguments were put forward by Giuseppe
Sergi, Enrico Ferri (see note 47 on p. 246) and Paolo Orano.

37 Cli awenimenti di Sicilia e le loro accuse, and L'ltalia nel 18,98: iumulti 1 reaziom.

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many hundreds of millions had been extorted from Sardinia in the
first fifty years of the unitary State, to the advantage of the mainland.
Then came Salvemini's campaigns 38 — brought to their culmination
in the foundation of Unitd, but already being waged in Voce (see the
special number of Voce on the Southern Question, later published as a
pamphlet). In Sardinia an autonomist movement started, under
the leadership of Umberto Cau, which also had a daily newspaper:
II Paese. In those early years of the century a certain "intellectual
bloc" — a "pan-Italian" one — was created; it was led by B. Croce
and Giustino Fortunato, and sought to pose the Southern Question
as a national problem capable of renovating political and parlia-
mentary life. 39 Not simply the influence of Croce and Fortunato,
but their contributions, were to be seen in every review of the
younger generation which had liberal democratic tendencies and
proposed in general to rejuvenate and deprovincialise national life
and culture in all fields — in art, in literature, in politics. It was the
case with Voce and Unitd, but also with Patria from Bologna, Azione
Liberate from Milan, with the Young Liberal movement led by
Giovanni Borelli, etc. 40 The influence of this bloc increased further
when it came to determine the political line of Albertini's Corriere
della Sera ; after the war, thanks to the new situation, it appeared in
La Stampa too (through Cosmo, Salvatorelli, and also through
Ambrosini) and in Giolittism with the inclusion of Croce in the
last Giolitti government.* The movement developed to its maxi-

as For Salvemini and the influence of his "southernism" on the young Gramsci,
see Introduction, pp. xx, xxvi vii.

" Gramsci develops this analysis of the role played by Croce and Fortunato at
greater length in Alcuni tend, in MS. p. 173, and below (pp. 93-5) in "The
city-countryside relationship . . .". Fortunato, a liberal conservative, was one of
the most important of the "southemist" writers, and the author notably of II
Mezzo giorno e lo State italiano, 1911.

40 Giovanni Borelli (1869-1932) was the founder of the Young Liberal move-
ment in 1900. Its aim was the re-creation of a "Latin" Mediterranean, and it was
in fact monarchist, irredentist and colonialist.

* A tendentious interpretation of this certainly very complex and many sided
movement is also offered today by G. Prezzolini, despite the fact that he himself
was a typical incarnation of it. However, as an authentic document, there is still
the first edition of La Coltura Italiana (t923) by that same Prezzolini — especially in
view of its omissions. 41

41 Giuseppe Prezzolini (b. 1882) was at first a mystical nationalist close to
Enrico Corradini (see note 28 on p. 68), subsequently a Crocean with syndicalist
sympathies. From 1908-14 he edited the influential La Voce. When the fascists
took power he soon adapted himself to the new situation/The first edition of his
La Coltura Italiana (published in 1923 but written before the fascists came to
power) contained many passages including a relatively complimentary des-
cription of the 1919-20 Or dine Nvovo which Prezzolini omitted in later editions,
in order to avoid giving offence to the regime.

NOTES ON ITALIAN HISTORY

73

mum, which was also its point of dissolution. This point was to be
identified in the particular stance of Piero Gobetti and in his
cultural initiatives. 42 The polemic carried on by Giovanni Ansaldo
(and collaborators of his such as "Calcante" [Calchas], otherwise
Francesco Ciccotti) against Guido Dorso is the most expressive
document of this destination and outcome 43 ; the comic aspects

* ! Piero Gobetti (1901 26) founded the fortnightly Energie Nuove in 1918, at
the age of 17. The son of a Turin grocer, he was at first strongly influenced by
Salvemini, but went far beyond the latter's "concretism", i.e. pragmatic liberal-
ism, in his attitude towards the October Revolution, the working-class and
Marxism. Although he was explicitly non socialist, he saluted the October Revo-
lution and the work of Lenin and Trotsky as a gigantic liberation of the Russian
people. His positions were extremely confused, and yet brought him near to the
revolutionary Left in the years immediately after the war. He wrote, for instance
(in 1 9 1 g) : "The Marxist experiment in Russia has certainly failed; the old
objections of liberal economics are more powerful than ever against all the pro-
ponents of statification — Bolshevism is just a further demonstration of this. . . .
But . . . the Russian Revolution is not limited to the socialist experiment. The
bases of a new State are being laid there. Lenin and Trotsky are not only Bolshe-
viks, they are men of action who have awoken a people and are creating a new
soul for it. . . . The work of Lenin and Trotsky ... is basically the negation of
socialism and an assertion and exaltation of liberalism . . .". He seems to have
been particularly influenced by Trotsky's Terrorism and Communism: a reply to
Kautsky. His confused positions made him the target of polemics in the pages
of Or dine Nuovo, from both Gramsci and Togliatti, who attacked his idealism. But
he was genuinely concerned, unlike Salvemini, with the theoretical problems
raised by the rising tide of working-class revolution in that period, and organised
debates in the pages of Energie Nuove on socialism, with contributions from, e.g.,
Croce, Einaudi, Mondolfo, Loria. During 1920 he canie closer to the Ordine
Nuovo group, above all under the influence of the factory council movement, and
also because he shared their view that the alliance of workers and peasants was
the key to what he saw as the "democratic" revolution in Italy. In January 1921,
when Ordine Nuovo became a daily, he w as asked to become its theatre critic, and
he also contributed numerous book reviews. In February 1922 he founded a new
weekly La Rivoluzione Liberate, whose contributors included Amendola, Pareto,
Mosca, Missiroli, Fortunato, Einaudi, Dorso, Lelio Basso, Carlo Levi, Malaparte,
Salvatorelli to name only a few. He made this weekly above all into an organ
of bitter opposition to fascism; Gobetti was explicit in his opposition to any
illusion that fascism could be somehow contained within the system, or that it
would be tamed by coming to terms with it. In his opposition to fascism, Gobetti
came very close to Marxism (see, for instance, his L'ora di Marx), and his entire
position was based on the idea that only the working class could defeat fascism.
His activity, including a publishing house founded in 1923 and a new fortnightly
Baretti in addition to La Rivoluzione Liberate, continued despite constant police
harassment until the end of 1925, when he was forbidden to edit or publish
anything further. He decided to go into exile, and died almost immediately of
bronchitis and heart failure. Gramsci analysed the significance of Gobetti in his
Alcuni temi.

48 Guido Dorso (see Gramsci's discussion of him in Alcuni temi) was the author
of La Rivoluzione Meridionale, in which he called for the overthrow of the centralised
Italian state, and also of the traditional ruling class of the South. Ansaldo and
Ciccotti were contributors at this time to Gobetti's Rivoluzione Liberate (although
Ansaldo later in fact became a fascist, at the time of the Abyssinian campaign),
who defended the unity of Italy at any price — raising the bogy of a return of the
Bourbons if the unitary link was broken.

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which now seem obvious in the gladiatorial and intimidatory
attitudes of fanatical unitarianism even help to make it that.*

From this series of observations and analyses of certain elements
of Italian history after unity, certain criteria may be drawn for
evaluating the position of confrontation between the Moderates
and the Action Party, and for investigating the respective political
"wisdom" of these two parties and of the various tendencies which
contested the political and ideological leadership of the latter of
them. It is obvious that, in order to counterpose itself effectively to
the Moderates, the Action Party ought to have allied itself with the
rural masses, especially those in the South, and ought to have been
"Jacobin" not only in external "form", in temperament, but most
particularly in socio-economic content. The binding together of the
various rural classes, which was accomplished in a reactionary bloc
by means of the various legitimist-clerical intellectual strata, could
be dissolved, so as to arrive at a new liberal-national formation, only
if support was won from two directions: from the peasant masses,
by accepting their elementary demands and making these an
integral part of the new programme of government; and from the
intellectuals of the middle and lower strata, by concentrating them
and stressing the themes most capable of interesting them (and the
prospect of a new apparatus of government being formed, with the
possibilities of employment which it offered, would already have
been a formidable element of attraction for them — if that prospect
had appeared concrete, because based on the aspirations of the
peasantry).

The relation between these two actions was dialectical and
reciprocal: the experience of many countries, first and foremost that
of France in the period of the great Revolution, has shown that, if
the peasants move through "spontaneous" impulses, the intellectuals
start to waver; and, reciprocally, if a group of intellectuals situates
itself on a new basis of concrete pro-peasant policies, it ends up by
drawing with it ever more important elements of the masses.

* That Ansaldo, in 1925-26, should have thought he could make people believe
in a return of the Bourbons to Naples, would seem inconceivable without a
knowledge of all the antecedents of the question and of the subterranean courses
taken by the polemics, with their hidden meanings and allusions enigmatic to the
non-initiated. However, it is remarkable that even among certain popular elements,
who had read Oriani," the fear existed at the time that a Bourbon restoration was
possible in Naples, and hence a more extensive dissolution of the unitary State
link.

44 Alfredo Oriani (1852 1909) was a novelist and polemicist whose themes
were those of national destiny — as such he was a forerunner of fascism. Gramsci
wrote a number of critical notes on him (see LVN. pp. 16-19).

NOTES ON ITALIAN HISTORY

75

However, one may say that, given the dispersal and the isolation
of the rural population and hence the difficulty of welding it into
solid organisations, it is best to start the movement from the
intellectual groups ; however, in general, it is the dialectical relation
between the two actions which has to be kept in mind. It may also
be said that peasant parties in the strict sense of the word are almost
impossible to create. The peasant party generally is achieved only
as a strong current of opinion, and not in schematic forms of
bureaucratic organisation. However, the existence even of only a
skeleton organisation is of immense usefulness, both as a selective
mechanism, and for controlling the intellectual groups and pre-
venting caste interests from transporting them imperceptibly onto
different ground.

These criteria must be kept in mind when studying the personality
of Giuseppe Ferrari, who was the Action Party's unheeded
"specialist" on agrarian questions. It is also necessary to study
closely Ferrari's attitude towards the agricultural labourers
[bracciantato], i.e. the landless peasants who live by day-labour. It is
on these that he bases a notable part of his ideological positions, for
which he is still sought out and read by certain schools of thought
(works of Ferrari reprinted by Monanni, with prefatory material
by Luigi Fabbri). It must be recognised that the problem of the
agricultural labourers is an extremely difficult one, and even today
very hard to solve. In general, the following criteria must be borne
in mind: the agricultural labourers to this day are for the most part
simply peasants without land — (hence were all the more so in the
Risorgimento period) — and not the workers of an agricultural
industry developed through concentration of capital and the
division of labour. Moreover, in the period of the Risorgimento,
tied labour [obbligato] was considerably more widespread than
casual labour [avoentizio]. Their psychology is therefore, with all
due exceptions, the same as that of the farmer and the small-
holder.*

The question was posed in acute form not so much in the Mezzo-

* It is worth recalling the polemic between Senators Tanari and Bassini in the
Resto del Carlino and in Perseveranza, which took place towards the end of 191 7 and
in early 1918, concerning the application of the slogan: "the land to the peasants",
launched around that time. Tanari was in favour, Bassini against. Bassini based
himself on his experience as a big agricultural industrialist, as a proprietor of
agricultural concerns in which the division of labour had progressed so far as to
render the land indivisible, because of the disappearance of the self-employed
peasant and the emergence of the modern worker.

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giorno, where the artisanal character of agricultural labour was too
obvious, as in the Po valley where it was more disguised. Even in
recent times, however, the existence of an acute problem of the
agricultural labourers in the Po valley was partly due to extra-
economic causes: i. over-population, which did not find an outlet
in emigration as in the South, and was artificially maintained
through the policy of public works; 2. policy of the landowners,
who did not wish to consolidate the working population into a
single class of agricultural labourers and share-croppers [mezzadri] ;
they alternated sharecropping with leaseholding, utilising this
alternation in order to bring about a better selection of privileged
sharecroppers who would be their allies : in every congress of land-
owners from the Po region, there was always a discussion on whether
sharecropping or direct tenancy was more advantageous, and it was
clear that the choice was made for motives of a socio-political
character. During the Risorgimento, the problem of the Po agri-
cultural labourers appeared in the guise of a terrible phenomenon
of pauperism. It is seen thus by the economist Tullio Martello in his
History of the International, written in 1871-72, a work which must be
borne in mind since it reflects the political passions and the social
preoccupations of the preceding period.

Ferrari's position is moreover weakened by his "federalism";
especially in his case — living in France as he did — this appeared all
the more like a reflection of the national and State interests of
France. Proudhon should be recalled, with his pamphlets against
Italian unity — combated from the declared standpoint of French
State interest and of democracy. In reality, the principal tendencies
of French politics were bitterly opposed to Italian unity. To this
day the monarchists (Bainville and Co.) "reproach" retrospectively
the two Napoleons with having created the "nationalitarian" myth,
and with having helped to secure its realisation in Germany and
Italy, thus lowering the relative stature of France, which "ought"
to be surrounded by a swarm of little states of the Switzerland type
in order to be "secure".

Now the Moderates after 1848 formed a national bloc under their
own hegemony — influencing the two supreme leaders of the Action
Party, Mazzini and Garibaldi, in different ways and to a different
extent. They did this precisely under the slogan of "independence
and unity", without taking any account of the concrete political
content of such generic formulae. How successful the Moderates
had been in their intention of diverting attention from the kernel
to the husk is demonstrated, among so many other examples, by

NOTES ON ITALIAN HISTORY

77

this expression of Guerrazzi's in a letter to a Sicilian student* :
"Whatever we desire — whether it is despotism or republic or any-
thing else — let us not seek division among ourselves; with this
guiding principle, the world can collapse and we will still find the
way again." In any case, Mazzini's entire activity was concretely
devoted to a continuous and permanent preaching of unity.

On the subject of Jacobinism and the Action Party, an element to
be highlighted is the following: that the Jacobins won their function
of "leading" [dirigente] party by a struggle to the death; they
literally "imposed" themselves on the French bourgeoisie, leading
it into a far more advanced position than the originally strongest
bourgeois nuclei would have spontaneously wished to take up, and
even far more advanced than that which the historical premisses
should have permitted — hence the various forms of backlash and
the function of Napoleon I. This feature, characteristic of Jacobin-
ism (but before that, also of Cromwell and the "Roundheads")
and hence of the entire French Revolution, which consists in
(apparently) forcing the situation, in creating irreversible fails
accomplis, and in a group of extremely energetic and determined
men driving the bourgeois forward with kicks in the backside, may
be schematized in the following way. The Third Estate was the
least homogeneous; it had a very disparate intellectual elite, and a
group which was very advanced economically but politically
moderate. Events developed along highly interesting lines. The
representatives of the Third Estate initially only posed those
questions which interested the actual physical members of the
social group, their immediate "corporate" interests (corporate in
the traditional sense, of the immediate and narrowly selfish interests
of a particular category) . The precursors of the Revolution were in
fact moderate reformers, who shouted very loud but actually
demanded very little. Gradually a new elite was selected out
which did not concern itself solely with "corporate" reforms, but
tended to conceive of the bourgeoisie as the hegemonic group of all
the popular forces. This selection occurred through the action of
two factors: the resistance of the old social forces, and the inter-
national threat. The old forces did not wish to concede anything,
and if they did concede anything they did it with the intention of
gaining time and preparing a counter-offensive. The Third Estate
would have fallen into these successive "pitfalls" without the

* Published in the Arcbivio Storico Siciliano by Eugenio Di Carlo, correspondence
between F. D. Guerrazzi and the notary Francesco Paolo Sardof ontana of Riella,
reproduced in Marzocco on 24 November 1929.

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energetic action of the Jacobins, who opposed every "intermediate"
halt in the revolutionary process, and sent to the guillotine not only
the elements of the old society which was hard a-dying, but also the
revolutionaries of yesterday — today become reactionaries. The
Jacobins, consequently, were the only party of the revolution in
progress, in as much as they not only represented the immediate
needs and aspirations of the actual physical individuals who consti-
tuted the French bourgeoisie, but they also represented the revolu-
tionary movement as a whole, as an integral historical development.
For they represented future needs as well, and, once again, not only
the needs of those particular physical individuals, but also of all the
national groups which had to be assimilated to the existing funda-
mental group. It is necessary to insist, against a tendentious and
fundamentally anti-historical school of thought, that the Jacobins
were realists of the Machiavelli stamp and not abstract dreamers.
They were convinced of the absolute truth of their slogans about
equality, fraternity and liberty, and, what is more important, the
great popular masses whom the Jacobins stirred up and drew into
the struggle were also convinced of their truth. The Jacobins'
language, their ideology, their methods of action reflected perfectly
the exigencies of the epoch, even if "today", in a different situation
and after more than a century of cultural evolution, they may
appear "abstract" and "frenetic". Naturally they reflected those
exigencies according to the French cultural tradition. One proof of
this is the analysis of Jacobin language which is to be found in The
Holy Family.* 5 Another is Hegel's admission, 46 when he places as
parallel and reciprocally translatable the juridico-political language
of the Jacobins and the concepts of classical German philosophy —
which is recognised today to have the maximum of concreteness
and which was the source of modern historicism. The first necessity
was to annihilate the enemy forces, or at least to reduce them to
impotence in order to make a counter-revolution impossible. The
second was to enlarge the cadres of the bourgeoisie as such, and to
place the latter at the head of all the national forces; this meant
identifying the interests and the requirements common to all the
national forces, in order to set these forces in motion and lead them
into the struggle, obtaining two results: (a) that of opposing a wider
target to the blows of the enemy, i.e. of creating a politico-military

15 The Holy Family, Lawrence and Wishart, London, 1956, pp. 160-67, ' n
Chapter VI, Section 3(c).

" e.g. in Section III, part 3 of his Foreword to the Phenomenology of the Spirit,
and in his Lectures on the History of Philosophy. See MS. pp. 63-71.

NOTES ON ITALIAN HISTORY

79

relation favourable to the revolution; (£) that of depriving the
enemy of every zone of passivity in which it would be possible to
enrol Vendee-type armies. 47 Without the agrarian policy of the
Jacobins, Paris would have had the Vendee at its very doors. The
resistance of the Vendee properly speaking is linked to the national
question, which had become envenomed among the peoples of
Brittany and in general among those alien to the slogan of the
"single and indivisible republic" and to the policy of bureaucratic-
military centralisation — a slogan and a policy which the Jacobins
could not renounce without committing suicide. The Girondins
tried to exploit federalism in order to crush Jacobin Paris, but the
provincial troops brought to Paris went over to the revolutionaries.
Except for certain marginal areas, where the national (and linguis-
tic) differentiation was very great, the agrarian question proved
stronger than aspirations to local autonomy. Rural France accepted
the hegemony of Paris; in other words, it understood that in order
definitively to destroy the old regime it had to make a bloc with
the most advanced elements of the Third Estate, and not with the
Girondin moderates. If it is true that the Jacobins "forced" its
hand, it is also true that this always occurred in the direction of
real historical development. For not only did they organise a
bourgeois government, i.e. make the bourgeoisie the dominant
class — they did more. They created the bourgeois State, made the
bourgeoisie into the leading, hegemonic class of the nation, in other
words gave the new State a permanent basis and created the
compact modern French nation.

That the Jacobins, despite everything, always remained on
bourgeois ground is demonstrated by the events which marked their
end, as a party cast in too specific and inflexible a mould, and by
the death of Robespierre. Maintaining the Le Chapelier law, they
were not willing to concede to the workers the right of combination;
as a consequence they had to pass the law of the maximum.** They
thus broke the Paris urban bloc: their assault forces, assembled in
the Commune, dispersed in disappointment, and Thermidor gained
the upper hand. The Revolution had found its widest class limits.

47 From 1793-96 royalist priests and landowners fomented peasant guerrilla
warfare against the Republic in the "Vendee region in western France.

" The Le Chapelier law of June I7gi was brought in to dissolve the craft guilds
which had survived from the tmcien regime. Although it was in conception a "pro-
gressive" bourgeois measure, it was used throughout the first half of the nineteenth
century to ban workers' associations.

The law of the maximum fixed a ceiling for food prices and for wages, and
drove a wedge between the Jacobins and the workers.

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The policy of alliances and of permanent revolution had finished
by posing new questions which at that time could not be resolved;
it had unleashed elemental forces which only a military dictatorship
was to succeed in containing. 49

In the Action Party there was nothing to be found which
resembled this Jacobin approach, this inflexible will to become the
"leading" [dirigente] party. Naturally one has to allow for the
differences: in Italy the struggle manifested itself as a struggle

48 Gramsci is here referring to what he elsewhere terms the "forty-eightist"
slogan of "permanent revolution", since it was first put forward by Marx during
the 1 848 wave of bourgeois revolutions in the belief that these would lead directly
to proletarian revolutions. See notably the 1850 "Address of the Central Com-
mittee to the Communist League": "While the democratic petty bourgeoisie wish
to bring the revolution to a conclusion as quickly as possible, and with the achieve-
ment, at most, of the above demands, it is our interest and our task to make the
revolution permanent, until all more or less possessing classes have been forced
out of their position of dominance, until the proletariat has conquered state
power, . . . Their battle cry must be : 'The Revolution in Permanence'."

See too NM. pp. 102-3: "The development of Jacobinism (of content), and
of the formula of Permanent Revolution put into practice in the active phase of
the French Revolution, found its juridical constitutional 'completion' in the
parliamentary regime. The latter, in the period in which 'private' energies in
society were most plentiful, realised the permanent hegemony of the urban class
over the entire population in the Hegelian form of government with permanently
organised consent. (However, this organisation of consent was left to private
initiative, and was thus of a moral or ethical character, because it was consent
'voluntarily' given in one way or another.) The 'limit' which the Jacobins had
come up against in the Le Chapelier law and in the law of the maximum was
transcended and pushed progressively back in the course of a whole process, in
which propagandists and practical (economic, political-juridical) activity
alternated. The economic base was continually enlarged and reinforced through
industrial and commercial development. Those social elements which were most
highly endowed with energy and spirit of enterprise rose from the lower classes to
the ruling classes. The entire society was in a continuous process of formation and
dissolution, followed by more complex formations with richer potentialities. This,
broadly speaking, lasted until the epoch of imperialism and culminated in the
world war. In this process, attempts at insurrection alternated with pitiless
repression, enlargements of political suffrage with restrictions, freedom of associa-
tion with restriction or annulment of that freedom. . . . The 'normal' exercise of
hegemony on the now classical terrain of the parliamentary regime is characterised
by the combination of force and consent, which balance each other reciprocally,
without force predominating excessively over consent. Indeed, the attempt is
always made to ensure that force will appear to be based on the consent of the
majority, expressed by the so called organs of public opinion newspapers and
associations which, therefore, in certain situations, are artificially multiplied.
Between consent and force stands corruption/fraud (which is characteristic of
certain situations when it is hard to exercise the hegemonic function, and when the
use of force is too risky). This consists in procuring the demoralisation and
paralysis of the antagonist (or antagonists) by buying its leaders —either covertly,
or, in cases of imminent danger, openly in order to sow disarray and confusion
in his ranks. In the period following the World War, cracks opened up everywhere
in the hegemonic apparatus, and the exercise of hegemony became permanently
difficult and aleatory."

NOTES ON ITALIAN HISTORY

8l

against old treaties and the existing international order, and
against a foreign power — Austria — which represented these and
upheld them in Italy, occupying a part of the peninsula and con-
trolling the rest. This problem arose in France too, in a certain sense
at least, since at a certain point the internal struggle became a
national struggle fought at the frontiers. But this only happened
after the whole territory had been won for the revolution, and the
Jacobins were able to utilise the external threat as a spur to greater
energy internally : they well understood that in order to defeat the
external foe they had to crush his allies internally, and they did not
hesitate to carry out the September massacres. 50 In Italy, although
a similar connection, both explicit and implicit, did exist between
Austria and at least a segment of the intellectuals, the nobles and
the landowners, it was not denounced by the Action Party; or at
least it was not denounced with the proper energy and in the most
practically effective manner, and it did not become a real political
issue. It became transformed "curiously" into a question of greater
or lesser patriotic dignity, and subsequently gave rise to a trail of
acrimonious and sterile polemics which continued even after 1898.*

60 Between 2 and 5 September 1792, at the insistence notably of Marat, some
1200 royalist prisoners were massacred. They were accused of having by their
treachery brought about the defeats suffered by the revolutionary annies prior to
the battle of Valmy.

* See the articles of Rerum Scriptor in Critica Sociale after the resumption of
publication, and the book by Romualdo Bonfadini, Mezzo secolo di patrioltismo
["Haifa century of patriotism"], Milan 1886. The question of the "testimony""
of Federico Confalonieri should be recalled in this respect: Bonfadini, in the
above-mentioned book, asserts in a note that he has seen the collection of the
"testimony" in the State Archives of Milan, and he refers to some 80 dossiers.
Others have always denied that this collection of testimony exists in Italy, thus
explaining its non-publication. In an article (published in 1925) by Senator
Salata, charged with carrying out research in the Viennese archives on documents
concerning Italy, it was claimed that the testimony had been traced and would
be published. Recall the fact that at a certain time Civiltd Cattolica challenged the
liberals to publish it, asserting that if it was known it would blow sky high, no
less, the unity of the State. In the Confalonieri question, the most remarkable fact
is that unlike other patriots pardoned by Austria, Confalonieri, who had been a
remarkable politician, withdrew from active life and after his liberation maintained
a very reserved bearing. The whole Confalonieri question should be critically
re-examined, together with the attitude assumed by him and his companions, and
an analysis in depth made of the memoirs written by the individuals involved
(when they wrote any). For the polemics which they provoked, the memoirs of the
Frenchman Alexandre Andryane are interesting; he treats Confalonieri with
great respect and admiration, whereas he attacks Giorgio Pallavicino for his
weakness.

sl "Costituti" are more precisely statements made under pre-trial interrogation;
the word has no exact English equivalent.

Federico Confalonieri (1 785-1 846) was a conspirator, inventor and journalist.
He was a member of the "Itdici" in opposition to Napoleon in 18 14, and subse-

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In connection with the attempts — some even recent — to defend the
attitude towards Austria assumed by the Lombard aristocracy,
especially after the attempted insurrection at Milan in February
1853 and during the vice-regency of Maximilian, 62 it should be
recalled that Alessandro Luzio, whose historical work is always
tendentious and acrimonious against the democrats, goes so far as
to justify the faithful services rendered to Austria by Salvotti:
hardly a Jacobin spirit ! The comic note in the discussion is provided
by Alfredo Panzini, who, in his Life ofCavour, rings all the changes —
as affected as they are nauseating and Jesuitical — on a "tiger-skin"
displayed from an aristocrat's window during a visit to Milan by
Franz Josef! 53

The conceptions of Missiroli, Gobetti, Dorso, etc., on the Italian
Risorgimento as a "royal conquest", should be considered from all
these points of view.

If in Italy a Jacobin party was not formed, the reasons are to be
sought in the economic field, that is to say in the relative weakness
of the Italian bourgeoisie and in the different historical climate in
Europe after 18 15. The limit reached by the Jacobins, in their
policy of forced reawakening of French popular energies to be
allied with the bourgeoisie, with the Le Chapelier law and that of
the maximum, appeared in 1848 as a "spectre" which was already
threatening — and this was skilfully exploited by Austria, by the old
governments and even by Cavour (quite apart from the Pope). The
bourgeoisie could not (perhaps) extend its hegemony further over
the great popular strata— which it did succeed in embracing in
France — (could not for subjective rather than objective reasons) ; but
action directed at the peasantry was certainly always possible.
Differences between France, Germany and Italy in the process by
which the bourgeoisie took power (and England). It was in France
that the process was richest in developments, and in active and

quently of the anti-Austrian "federati" with wide contacts in French liberal circles.
He tried to introduce gas-lighting and river steamboats during this period. In
1821 he plotted a rising in Lombardy to coincide with the Piedmont rising of that
year. He was arrested, and his interrogation and trial lasted until 1 823, when he
was sentenced to death — though this was commuted to life imprisonment, and
later to exile.

11 Arch-duke Maximilian of Austria was vice-regent of Lombardy from 1857
to 1859. The attempted anti-Austrian insurrection of 6 February 1853, involving
workers and artisans inspired by Mazzini's ideas, was a failure; the aristocrats
did not back it.

M Panzini contrasts Cavour's refusal to pay any official respects to the Austrian
Emperor when he visited his Italian possessions in 1857 with the attitude of the
Lombard aristocracy who paid him homage — including one lady who decorated
her balcony with a tiger-skin in his honour.

NOTES ON ITALIAN HISTORY

8 3

positive political elements. In Germany, it evolved in ways which in
certain aspects resembled what happened in Italy, and in others
what happened in England. In Germany, the movement of 1848
failed as a result of the scanty bourgeois concentration (the Jacobin-
type slogan was furnished by the democratic Far Left: "permanent
revolution"), and because the question of renewal of the State was
intertwined with the national question. The wars of 1864, 1866
and 1870 54 resolved both the national question and, in an inter-
mediate form, the class question: the bourgeoisie obtained economic-
industrial power, but the old feudal classes remained as the govern-
ing stratum of the political State, with wide corporate privileges in
the army, the administration and on the land. Yet at least, if these
old classes kept so much importance in Germany and enjoyed so
many privileges, they exercised a national function, became the
"intellectuals" of the bourgeoisie, with a particular temperament
conferred by their caste origin and by tradition. In England, where
the bourgeois revolution took place before that in France, we have
a similar phenomenon to the German one of fusion between the old
and the new — this notwithstanding the extreme energy of the
English "Jacobins", i.e. Cromwell's "roundheads". The old aristo-
cracy remained as a governing stratum, with certain privileges, and
it too became the intellectual stratum of the English bourgeoisie
(it should be added that the English aristocracy has an open
structure, and continually renews itself with elements coming from
the intellectuals and the bourgeoisie).* The explanation given by
Antonio Labriola of the fact that the Junkers and Kaiserism
continued in power in Germany, despite the great capitalist
development, adumbrates the correct explanation: the class
relations created by industrial development, with the limits of
bourgeois hegemony reached and the position of the progressive
classes reversed, have induced the bourgeoisie not to struggle with
all its strength against the old regime, but to allow a part of the
latter's facade to subsist, behind which it can disguise its own real
domination.

54 With Denmark, Austria and France respectively.

* Certain observations contained in the preface to the English translation of
Utopia and Science should be looked at in this connection. These are worth recalling
for the research into intellectuals and their historico-social functions. 56

66 The reference is to Engels' Socialism: Utopian and Scientific. The major part of
the new preface to the English edition of 1892 is relevant to Gramsci's problematic
here. See Marx/Engels, Selected Works, Vol. II, pp. 105-15, Lawrence and Wishartj
London, 1958. See too "Merits of the Ruling Class" on pp. 269--270, and note 6
on p. 216.

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These variations in the actual process whereby the same historical
development manifests itself in different countries have to be
related not only to the differing combinations of internal relations
within the different nations, but also to the differing international
relations (international relations are usually underestimated in this
kind of research). The Jacobin spirit, audacious, dauntless, is
certainly related to the hegemony exercised for so long by France
in Europe, as well as to the existence of an urban centre like Paris
and to the centralisation attained in France thanks to the absolute
monarchy. The Napoleonic wars on the other hand, intellectually
so fertile for the renovation of Europe, nonetheless through their
enormous destruction of manpower — and these were men taken
from among the boldest and most enterprising — weakened not only
the militant political energy of France but that of other nations as
well.

International relations were certainly very important in determi-
ning the line of development of the Italian Risorgimento, but they
were exaggerated by the Moderate Party, and by Cavour for party
reasons. Cavour's case is noteworthy in this connection. Before the
Quarto 56 expedition and the crossing of the Straits, he feared
Garibaldi's initiative like the devil, because of the international
complications which it might create. He was then himself impelled
by the enthusiasm created by the Thousand in European opinion
to the point where he saw as feasible an immediate new war against
Austria. There existed in Cavour a certain professional diplomat's
distortion, which led him to see "too many" difficulties, and induced
him into "conspiratorial" exaggerations, and into prodigies (which
to a considerable extent were simply tightrope-walking) of subtlety
and intrigue. In any case Cavour acted eminently as a party man.
Whether in fact his party represented the deepest and most durable
national interests, even if only in the sense of the widest extension
which could be given to the community of interests between the
bourgeoisie and the popular masses, is another question.*

In examining the political and military leadership imposed on
the national movement before and after 1848, it is necessary to make

t6 It was at Quarto, near Genoa, that Garibaldi lived prior to the Sicilian
expedition, and from there that the expedition set sail.

* With respect to the "Jacobin" slogan [permanent revolution] formulated in
1 848-49, its complex fortunes are worth studying. Taken up again, systematised,
developed, intellectualised by the Parvus-Bronstein [Trotsky] group, it proved
inert and ineffective in 1 905, and subsequently. It had become an abstract thing,
belonging in the scientist's cabinet. The [Bolshevik] tendency which opposed it
in this literary form, and indeed did not use it "on purpose", applied it in fact in

NOTES ON ITALIAN HISTORY

85

certain preliminary observations of method and terminology. By
military leadership should be understood not only military leader-
ship in the strict, technical sense, i.e. with reference to the strategy
and the tactics of the Piedmontese army, or of Garibaldi's troops or
of the various militias improvised in the course of local insurrections
(Five Days of Milan, defence of Venice, defence of the Roman
Republic, Palermo insurrection of 1848, etc.). It should be under-
stood rather in a far wider sense, and one which is more closely
connected with political leadership properly speaking. The essential
problem which had to be faced from the military point of view was
that of expelling from the peninsula a foreign power, Austria, which
had at its disposal one of the largest armies in Europe at that time,
and whose supporters in the peninsula itself, moreover, even in
Piedmont, were neither few nor weak. Consequently, the military
problem was the following: how to succeed in mobilising an
insurrectional force which was capable not only of expelling the
Austrian army from the peninsula, but of preventing it from being
able to come back with a counter-offensive — given the fact that the
violent expulsion would endanger the complex structure of the
Empire, and hence would galvanise all the forces interested in its
cohesion for a reconquest.

Numerous abstract solutions to the problem were presented, all
of them contradictory and ineffective. "Italy will go it alone" was
the Piedmontese slogan of 1848, but it meant catastrophic defeat.
The uncertain, ambiguous, timid and at the same time foolhardy
policies of the right-wing Piedmontese parties was the principal
reason for the defeat. They were capable only of petty cunning.
They were the cause of the withdrawal of the armies of the other
Italian States, those of Naples and of Rome, when they showed too
early that they wanted Piedmontese expansion and not an Italian
confederation. They did not favour, but opposed the volunteer
movement. They, in short, wanted the only military victors to be
the Piedmontese generals, incapable of commanding in so difficult
a war. The absence of a popular policy was disastrous. The Lombard
and Venetian peasants enrolled by Austria were one of the most
effective instruments for suffocating the Vienna revolution, and

a form which adhered to actual, concrete, living history, adapted to the time and
the place; as something that sprang from all the pores of the particular society
which had to be transformed ; as the alliance of two social groups [i.e. proletariat
and peasantry] with the hegemony of the urban group. In one case, you had the
Jacobin temperament without an adequate political content; in the second, a
Jacobin temperament and content derived from the new historical relations, and
not from a literary and intellectualistic label.

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hence also that of Italy. For the peasants the movement in
Lombardy-Veneto, like the Viennese movement, was an affair of
gentlemen and of students. Whereas the Italian national parties
ought to have, by their policies, brought about or assisted the
dissolution of the Austrian Empire, in fact by their inertia they saw
to it that the Italian regiments were one of the best supports for
Austrian reaction. In the struggle between Piedmont and Austria,
the strategic objective could not be that of destroying the Austrian
army and occupying the enemy's territory, for this would have been
an unattainable and Utopian objective. But it could have been that
of dissolving Austria's internal cohesion, and of assisting the liberals
to gain power firmly and change the political structure of the
Empire into a federalist one, or at least to create within it a pro-
longed state of internal struggles which would give a breathing-
space to the Italian national forces, and permit them to regroup
themselves politically and militarily.*

Having started the war with the slogan "Italy will go it alone",
after the defeat, when the entire undertaking was endangered, an
attempt was made to gain French assistance. This occurred pre-
cisely at the time when, partly as a result of the reinforcement of
Austria, the reactionaries had come to power in France — the
enemies of a unitary and strong Italian State, and also of Pied-
montese expansion. 58 France did not wish to give Piedmont even
an experienced general, and the latter had to turn to the Pole
Chrzanowski.

Military leadership was a larger question than the leadership of

* The same error was committed by Sonnino during the World War, and that
in the face of Cadorna's protests. Sonnino did not desire the destruction of the
Habsburg Empire, and refused any nationalities policy." Even after Caporetto,
a nationalitarian policy was adopted reluctantly and in a Malthusian manner, and
therefore did not give the swifter results which it could have given.

57 i.e., any support for the right of self-determination which might have
allowed Italy to forge alliances with the various disaffected ethnic minorities
within the Habsburg Empire. Giorgio Sonnino (1847-1924) was a conservative
politician, prime minister in 1906 and again in 1909, and foreign minister during
the First World War (191 5-18). For Cadorna, see note 29 on p. 145.

" The Piedmontese under Chrzanowski were defeated by the Austrians at
Novara in March 1849. As Marx expressed it in The Class Struggles in France:
"Piedmont was beaten, Charles-Albert had abdicated and the Austrian army
knocked at the gates of France." Marx goes on to describe how the French expedi-
tion in Italy, instead of following its proclaimed aim of support for the Italians
against Austria, in fact intervened against the Roman Republic. On 1 1 May the
National Assembly rejected a bill of impeachment against Bonaparte and his
ministers, and as Marx put it: "the Constituent Assembly . . . admits ... on
1 1 May that the bombastically proclaimed passive alliance of the French republic
with the struggling peoples means its active alliance with the European counter-
revolution".

NOTES ON ITALIAN HISTORY

87

the army and the working out of the strategic plan which the army
was to execute. It included also the politico-insurrectional mobilisa-
tion of popular forces who would rise in revolt at the enemy's back
and obstruct his movements and logistic services; and the creation
of mass auxiliary and reserve forces from which new regiments
could be drawn, and which would give to the "technical" army an
atmosphere of enthusiasm and ardour.

The policy of popular mobilisation was not carried out even after
1849; indeed stupid quibbles were made about the events of 1849
in order to intimidate the democratic tendencies. The right-wing
national policy became involved, during the second period of the
Risorgimento, in a search for the assistance of Bonapartist France,
and balanced the strength of Austria with the French alliance. The
policies of the Right in 1848 delayed the unification of the peninsula
by more than two decades.

The uncertainties of political and military leadership, the con-
tinual oscillations between despotism and constitutionalism, had
their disastrous repercussions within the Piedmontese army too.
It may safely be asserted that the more numerous an army is —
whether in an absolute sense as a recruited mass, or in a relative
sense as a proportion of recruited men to the total population — the
more the importance of political leadership increases in comparison
with merely technical-military leadership. The combativity of the
Piedmontese army was extremely high at the start of the campaign
of 1848 : the rightists believed that this combativity was an expression
of a purely abstract military and dynastic spirit, and began to
intrigue to restrain popular freedoms and to tone down expectations
of a democratic future. The "morale" of the army fell. Herein lies
the entire debate about "fatal Novara". At Novara the army did
not want to fight, and therefore was defeated. The "rightists"
accused the democrats of having introduced politics into the army
and split it: an inept accusation, since constitutionalism precisely
"nationalised" the army, made it into an element of general
politics, and thereby strengthened it militarily. The accusation is
all the more inept in that the army perceives a political change of
leadership [or direction], without any need for "splitters", from a
host of little changes — each one of which might seem insignificant
and negligible, but which together form a new, asphyxiating
atmosphere. Those who are responsible for the splits are conse-
quently those who have altered the political leadership, without
foreseeing the military consequences; those who, in other words,
have substituted a bad policy for the previous good one — good,

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because in conformity with its objective. The army is also an
"instrument" for a particular end, but it is made up of thinking
men and not of robots who can be utilised to the limits of their
mechanical and physical cohesion. Even if one can and must, in
this case too, speak in terms of what is expedient and appropriate
to the objective, it is nevertheless also necessary to add the qualifica-
tion: in accordance with the nature of the given instrument. If you
hit a nail with a wooden mallet with the same strength with which
you would hit it with a steel hammer, the nail will go into the
mallet instead of into the wall. Correct political leadership is
necessary even with an army of professional mercenaries (even in
the companies of fortune there was a minimum of political leader-
ship, apart from of a technical-military kind) ; it is all the more
necessary with a national, conscript army. The question becomes
even more complex and difficult in wars of position, 69 fought by
huge masses who are only able to endure the immense muscular,
nervous and psychic strain with the aid of great reserves of moral
strength. Only a very skilful political leadership, capable of taking
into account the deepest aspirations and feelings of those human
masses, can prevent disintegration and defeat.

Military leadership must always be subordinate to political
leadership, or in other words the strategic plan must be the military
expression of a particular general policy. Naturally, it may be that
in a given situation the politicians are inept, while in the army there
are leaders who combine military ability with political ability: it
was the case with Caesar and with Napoleon. But we have seen how
in Napoleon's case the change of policies, combined with the
presumption that he had a military instrument which was military
in the abstract, brought about his downfall. Even in those cases in
which political and military leadership is united in the same person,
it is the political moment which must prevail over the military.
Caesar's Commentaries are a classical example of the exhibition of an
intelligent combination of political art and military art: the soldiers
saw in Caesar not only a great military leader but especially their
political leader, the leader of democracy. It should be recalled how
Bismarck, following Clausewitz, maintained the supremacy of the
political moment over the military; whereas Wilhelm II, as Ludwig
records, scribbled furious notes on a newspaper in which Bismarck's
opinion was quoted. Thus the Germans won almost all the battles
brilliantly, but lost the war.

69 See "Political struggle and military war" on pp. 229 39 below, and intro-
duction to "State and Civil Society" pp. 206 g.

NOTES ON ITALIAN HISTORY

89

There exists a certain tendency to overestimate the contribution
of the popular classes to the Risorgimento, stressing especially the
phenomenon of volunteers. The most serious and thoughtful things
on the subject were written by Ettore Rota in Nuova Rivista Storica,
in 1928-29. Apart from the observation made in another note 60
about the significance which should be accorded to the volunteers,
it should be pointed out that the writings of Rota themselves show
how the volunteers were viewed with disfavour and sabotaged by
the Piedmontese authorities — which precisely confirms their bad
politico-military leadership. The Piedmontese government could
forcibly enrol soldiers within its own territory in proportion to its
population, just as Austria could in its territory and in proportion
to an enormously larger population. An all-out war on these terms
would always have been disastrous for Piedmont after a certain
time. Given the principle that "Italy goes it alone", it was necessary
either to accept immediately a confederation with the other Italian
States, or to propose territorial unity on such a radically popular
basis that the masses would have been induced to rise up against
the other governments, and would have constituted volunteer
armies who would have hastened to the support of the Piedmontese.
But precisely here lay the problem. The right-wing tendencies in
Piedmont either did not want auxiliaries, thinking that they could
defeat the Austrians with the regular Piedmontese forces alone (and
it is incomprehensible how they could have had such presumption),
or else would have liked to have been helped for nothing (and here
too it is incomprehensible how serious politicians could have asked
such an absurdity). In real life, one cannot ask for enthusiasm,
spirit of sacrifice, etc. without giving anything in return, even from
the subjects of one's own country; all the less can one ask these
things of citizens from outside that country, on the basis of a generic
and abstract programme and a blind faith in a far-distant govern-
ment. This was the drama of 1 848 and 1 849, but it is certainly not
fair therefore to despise the Italian people; the responsibility for the
disaster should be attributed either to the Moderates or to the
Action Party — in other words, in the last analysis, to the immaturity
and the scanty effectiveness of the ruling classes.

These observations concerning the deficiencies of political and
military leadership in the Risorgimento might be met with a very
trivial and threadbare argument: "those men were not dema-
gogues, they did not go in for demagogy". Another very widespread

90 See "Voluntarism and social masses" on pp. 202-5 below.

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triviality used to parry negative judgements on the strategic abilities
of the leaders of the national movement consists in repeating in
various ways and forms that the national movement's capacity to
act was due to the merit of the educated classes solely. Where the
merit lies is hard to see. The merit of an educated class, because it
is its historical function, is to lead the popular masses and develop
their progressive elements. If the educated class has not been
capable of fulfilling its function, one should speak not of merit but
of demerit — in other words, of immaturity and intrinsic weakness.
Similarly, it is necessary to be clear about the term, and the concept,
of demagogy. Those men in effect were not capable of leading the
people, were not capable of arousing their enthusiasm and their
passion, if one is to take demagogy in its original meaning. Did they
at least attain the end which they set themselves? They said that
they were aiming at the creation of a modern State in Italy, and they
in fact produced a bastard. They aimed at stimulating the formation
of an extensive and energetic ruling class, and they did not succeed;
at integrating the people into the framework of the new State, and
they did not succeed. The paltry political life from 1870 to 1900,
the fundamental and endemic rebelliousness of the Italian popular
classes, the narrow and stunted existence of a sceptical and cowardly
ruling stratum, these are all the consequences of that failure. A
consequence of it too is the international position of the new State,
lacking effective autonomy because sapped internally by the
Papacy and by the sullen passivity of the great mass of the people.
In reality, furthermore, the rightists of the Risorgimento were great
demagogues. They made the people-nation into an instrument,
into an object, they degraded it. And therein lies the greatest and
most contemptible demagogy, precisely in the sense which the term
has assumed on the lips of the right-wing parties when they polemi-
cise against those of the left — although it has always been the right-
wing parties who have shown the worst demagogy, and who have
often (like Napoleon III in France) appealed to the dregs of society.
[1934: 1st version 1929-30.]

THE CITY-COUNTRYSIDE RELATIONSHIP DURING THE RISORGIMENTO
AND IN THE NATIONAL STRUCTURE

The relations between urban population and rural population are
not of a single, schematic type — especially in Italy. It is therefore
necessary to establish what is meant by "urban" and "rural" in
modern civilisation, and what combinations may result from the

NOTES ON ITALIAN HISTORY

91

fact that antiquated and retrograde forms continue to exist in the
general composition of the population, studied from the viewpoint
of its greater or lesser density. Sometimes the paradox occurs that
a rural type is more progressive than a self-styled urban type.

An "industrial" city is always more progressive than the country-
side which depends organically upon it. But not all Italy's cities are
"industrial", and even fewer are typically industrial. Are the
"hundred" Italian cities industrial? 61 Does the agglomeration of
the population in non-rural centres, which is almost twice as great
as in France, demonstrate that Italy's industrialisation is double
that of France ? Urbanism in Italy is not purely, nor "especially",
a phenomenon of capitalistic development or of that of big industry.
Naples, which for a long time was the biggest Italian city and
which continues to be one of the biggest, is not an industrial city:
neither is Rome — at present the largest Italian city. Yet in these
mediaeval- type cities too, there exist strong nuclei of populations of
a modern urban type; but what is their relative position? They are
submerged, oppressed, crushed by the other part, which is not of a
modern type, and constitutes the great majority. Paradox of the
"cities of silence". 62

In this type of city there exists, among all social groups, an urban
ideological unity against the countryside, a unity which even the
most modern nuclei in terms of civil function do not escape (and
there are such nuclei) . There is hatred and scorn for the "peasant",
an implicit common front against the demands of the countryside —
which, if realised, would make impossible the existence of this type
of city. Reciprocally, there exists an aversion — which, if "generic",
is not thereby any less tenacious or passionate — of the country for
the city, for the whole city and all the groups which make it up.
This general relationship is in reality very complex, and appears in
forms which on the surface seem contradictory; it had a primary
importance in the course of the struggles for the Risorgimento,
when it was even more absolute and operative than it is today.

•* Gramsci defines the "hundred cities" (on PP. p. g8) as "the agglomeration
into burgs (cities) of the rural bourgeoisie, and the agglomeration into peasant
villages [borgate] of great masses of agricultural labourers and landless peasants
in areas where extensive latifundia exist (Puglie, Sicily)".

M D'Annunzio gave the title "Cities of Silence" to a sequence of poems, mainly
sonnets, in Elettra, the second book of his Laudi. These cities— -Ferrara, Pisa,
Ravenna, Rimini, Assisi, Spoleto, Gubbio, Urbino, Padova, Lucca, Pistoia,
Prato, Perugia, Spello, Montefalco, Nami, Todi, Orvieto, Arezzo, Cortona,
Bergamo, Carrara, Volterra, Vicenza, Brescia — all had glorious pasts but are now
of secondary importance, some little more than villages with magnificent monu-
mental centres as a relic of their bygone splendour.

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The first blatant example of these apparent contradictions can
be studied in the episode of the Parthenopean Republic of 1 799. as
The city was crushed by the countryside — organised into the gangs
of Cardinal Ruffo — for a dual reason. On the one hand the
Republic, both in its first aristocratic phase and in its subsequent
bourgeois phase, totally neglected the countryside. On the other,
by holding out the possibility of a Jacobin upheaval in which
landed property, which spent its agrarian income in Naples, would
be dispossessed, thus depriving the great mass of the people of their
sources of income and livelihood, it left the Neapolitan populace
indifferent if not hostile. During the Risorgimento, moreover, there
already appeared, embryonically, the historical relationship between
North and South, similar to that between a great city and a great
rural area. As this relationship was, in fact, not the normal organic
one between a province and an industrial capital, but emerged
between two vast territories of very different civil and cultural
tradition, the features and the elements of a conflict of nationalities
were accentuated. What was particularly notable during the period
of the Risorgimento was the fact that, in the political crises, it was
the South which initiated the action: 1799 Naples, 1820-21
Palermo, 1847 Messina and Sicily, 1847-48 Sicily and Naples.
Another notable fact was the particular character which each of
these movements assumed in Central Italy, like a middle way
between North and South; the period of popular (or relatively
popular) initiative lasted from 181 5 until 1849, and culminated in
Tuscany and the Papal States (Romagna and Lunigiana must
always be considered as belonging to the Centre) . These peculiari-
ties reoccurred subsequently as well: the events of June 1814
culminated in certain regions of the Centre (Romagna and Marche) ;
the crisis which began in Sicily in 1 893, and spread into the Mezzo-
giorno and Lunigiana, culminated in 1898 at Milan; in 191 9 there

63 The Parthenopean Republic was proclaimed at Naples in January 1799, as
Napoleon's troops approached. The work of an enlightened, "Jacobin" bourgeoi-
sie, a large section of the city's aristocracy rallied to it (e.g. Cuoco see note 1 1
on p. sg). The French troops, however, braked the revolutionary aims of the
Neapolitan bourgeoisie, and prevented the measures to destroy feudalism which
could have won the countryside. Cardinal Ruffo, with British support, raised the
countryside against the town, and when the French were forced by military set-
backs in the North to withdraw in March, the Republic's days were numbered.
The bourgeois regime was under attack both from outside and from the "sanfedisti"
— a movement in support of the Bourbons among the lumpen-proletariat within,
and it capitulated in June after a generous amnesty offer by Ruffo. The Bourbons
then repudiated this amnesty, and there ensued a pitiless repression, with I2g execu-
tions and thousands of imprisonments and exiles, which decimated the Neapolitan
intellectuals and destroyed finally any consensual basis for Bourbon rule.

NOTES ON ITALIAN HISTORY

93

were the invasions of the land in the Mezzogiorno and in Sicily, in
1920 the occupation of the factories in the North. 64 This relative
synchronism and simultaneity on the one hand shows the existence,
ever since 181 5, of a relatively homogeneous politico-economic
structure; on the other it shows how in periods of crisis it is the
weakest and most marginal sector which reacts first.

The relation of city to countryside pertaining between North and
South may also be studied in their differing cultural conceptions
and mental attitudes. Allusion has already been made to the fact
that B. Croce and G. Fortunato, at the beginning of the century,
were at the head of a cultural movement which, in one way
or another, counterposed itself to the cultural movement of the
North (idealism against positivism, classicism or classicity against
futurism). 65 It should be pointed out, however, that Sicily distin-
guishes itself from the Mezzogiorno — including from a cultural point
of view: if Crispi can be seen as the man of Northern industrialism,
Pirandello is also generally nearer to futurism. Gentile and actualism
are also nearer to the futurist movement (understood in a wide
sense, as opposition to traditional classicism; as a form of contempo-
rary romanticism). 86 The intellectual strata of North and South
differ in structure and in origin: in the Mezzogiorno the pre-
dominant type is still the pettifogging lawyer [paglietta], who ensures
contact between the peasant masses and the landowners and State
apparatus. In the North the dominant type is the factory "tech-
nician", who acts as a link between the mass of the workers and the
management. The link with the State used to be a function of the

44 The events of June 1814 were a series of bourgeois risings, in connection with
an attempt by Murat to unite Italy from his base in Naples. Murat was defeated
by the Austrians at Tolentino, and fled to Corsica. The Austrians launched a wave
of repression aimed at the bourgeois liberals implicated in the risings.

For the Sicilian Fasci of i8g3 g4, see note 25 on p. 67. In i8g8 the Milan
workers demonstrated against rising prices and lack of food, and were bloodily
repressed by General Bava Beccaris. For the occupation of the factories in 1920,
see Introduction, p. xliii.

65 See p. 72 and note 3g on p. 72.

'* Crispi, Pirandello and Gentile were all Sicilians.

The futurist movement was launched by Marinetti in his Futurist Manifesto
of 1909, and celebrated the vitality of the modem age, especially in its technical
progress which was seen as sweeping away the old order. Gramsci, in a 1922
letter to Trotsky who had requested information on futurism for his "Literature and
Revolution", described how the workers before the World War "had seen in
futurism the elements of a struggle against the old academic culture of Italy,
mummified and alien to the popular masses . . .". But during the war the futurists
were violent interventionists, and subsequently their positions converged on the
one hand with fascism and on the other with d'Annunzio's nationalism. Marinetti
stood as a parliamentary candidate on Mussolini's list in igig.

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trade-union and political party organisations, led by a completely
new intellectual stratum (the present State syndicalism, 67 whose
consequence is the systematic diffusion of this social type on a
national scale in a more coherent and thorough way than was
possible for the old trade unions, is up to a certain point and in a
certain sense an instrument of moral and political unification) .

This complex city-countryside relationship can be studied in the
general political programmes which were striving to assert them-
selves before the Fascists achieved governmental power. The pro-
gramme of Giolitti 88 and the democratic liberals had the aim of
creating an "urban" bloc (of industrialists and workers) in the
North; this was to be the basis for a protectionist system, and
reinforce the economy and Northern hegemony. The Mezzogiorno
was reduced to the status of a semi-colonial market, a source of
savings and taxes, and was kept "disciplined" by measures of two
kinds. First, police measures: pitiless repression of every mass
movement, with periodical massacres of peasants.* Second, political-
police measures: personal favours to the "intellectual" stratum or
paglietta — in the form of jobs in the public administration; of
licence to pillage the local administration with impunity; and of
ecclesiastical legislation less rigidly applied than elsewhere, leaving
considerable patrimony at the disposal of the clergy, etc. — i.e.
incorporation of the most active Southern elements "individually"
into the leading personnel of the State, with particular "judicial"
and bureaucratic privileges, etc. Thus the social stratum which
could have organised the endemic Southern discontent, instead
became an instrument of Northern policy, a kind of auxiliary
private police. Southern discontent, for lack of leadership, did not
succeed in assuming a normal political form; its manifestations,
finding expression only in an anarchic turbulence, were presented
as a "matter for the police" and the courts. In reality men like
Croce and Fortunato abetted this form of corruption, even if

87 i.e. the "corporations" to which workers had compulsorily to belong in
fascist Italy.

88 Giovanni Giolitti (1842 1928) dominated Italian parliamentary politics
between 1900 and 1914, and was prime minister in 1892 93, 1906-09, 1911-14,
and 192c— 21 (when he encouraged the fascists as a counter-balancing force to the
socialists). Gramsci analyses his policy at greater length in Alcuni temi.

* In his obituary of Giolitti in Nuova Antologia, 1 August 1928, Spectator
(Missiroli) expressed surprise that Giolitti was always strenuously opposed to any
dissemination of socialism or syndicalism in the South. But in fact the thing is
natural and obvious, since a working-class protectionism — reformism, co-
operatives, public works is only possible if partial; in other words, every
privilege presupposes somebody being sacrificed and exploited.

NOTES ON ITALIAN HISTORY

95

passively and indirectly, by means of their fetishistic conception of
unity.*

There was also a politico-moral factor which should not be
forgotten; this was the campaign of intimidation waged against
every assertion, however objective, that there existed motives for
conflict between North and South. One might recall the conclusion
of the Pais-Serra enquiry into Sardinia, after the commercial crisis
of the decade 1890-1900; also the accusation, recalled earlier, which
was hurled by Crispi at the Sicilian Fasci, of being sold to the
English. 70 This form of hysterical unitarianism was especially
prevalent among the Sicilian intellectuals (as a consequence of the
formidable peasant pressure on the nobility's land, and also of the
local popularity of Crispi) ; it even revealed itself quite recently in
Natoli's attack on Croce for an innocuous reference to Sicilian
separatism in relation to the Kingdom of Naples (see Croce's reply
in Critied). 11

Giolitti's programme was "upset" by two factors: 1. the coming
to the fore of the intransigents in the Socialist Party under the
leadership of Mussolini, and their flirtation with the Southernists
(free exchange, the Molfetta election, etc.), which destroyed the
Northern urban bloc; 72 2. the introduction of universal suffrage,
which enlarged the parliamentary base of the Mezzogiorno to an
unprecedented extent, and made individual corruption difficult
(too many to be easily corrupted — hence appearance of political
thugs). Giolitti changed partners: he replaced the urban bloc by
(or rather counterposed to it, in order to prevent its complete

* See the Fortunato Salvemini episode in connection with Uniia, recounted by
Prezzolini in the first edition oiCultura Italiana. (a

*' For Fortunato, see note 39 on p. 72; for Salvemini, see p. xx ff. Introduction.
Salvemini's "Uniia" was published 1911 15 and 1918-20, and suggested to
Gramsci the name for the subsequent official organ of the PCI, founded in 1924.
In the first edition of La Coltura Jtaliana (see note 41 on p. 72), Prezzolini wrote of
Uniia : "its title came from senator Fortunato, concerned for that 'unity of Italy'
which, to his historian's mind, has always seemed neither entirely nor solidly
achieved".

70 See note 26 on p. 67.

71 See Luigi Natoli, Rivindicazioni aiiraverso le rivoluzioni siciliant del 1848-60,
commented on by Gramsci on PP. pp. 135 36.

" For the intransigent wing of the PSI, see General Introduction; they were
opposed to any collaboration, however indirect, with the bourgeois govern-
ment — hence making impossible a continuation of the effective bloc between
Giolitti and the reformist leaders of the PSI. Mussolini, as editor of Avanli!, was
their main spokesman until his defection in 19 14. For the Molfetta election of
1 9 13, see following paragraph; as Gramsci explains, it showed the Corriere delta
Sera, the voice of the Lombard industrialists, prospecting a new alliance with a
"Southern bloc" in place of the now unviable Giolitti policy of a bloc with the
reformist leaders of die Northern working class.

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collapse) the "Gentiloni pact". 73 This was ultimately a bloc between
Northern industry and the farmers of the "organic and normal"
countryside (the Catholic electoral forces coincided geographically
with those of the socialists : i.e. they were spread over the North and
the Centre); it had additional support in the South as well — at
least to an extent immediately sufficient to "rectify" satisfactorily
the consequences of the mass electorate's enlargement.

The other programme or general political approach was the one
which may be termed that of the Corriere della Sera, or of Luigi
Albertini ; 74 this may be seen as an alliance between a section of the
Northern industrialists (headed by the textile, cotton and silk
masters — exporters and hence free traders) and the rural bloc of
the Mezzogiorno. The Corriere supported Salvemini against Giolitti
in the Molfetta election of 1913 (Ugo Ojetti's campaign), and it
supported first the Salandra Ministry and subsequently that of
Nitti 75 — in other words, the first two governments formed by
Southern politicians.*

The enlargement of the suffrage in 1 9 1 3 had already provoked
the first signs of that phenomenon which was to have its maximum
expression in 19 19-20-21 as a consequence of the politico-
organisational experience acquired by the peasant masses during
the war — i.e. the relative break-up of the Southern rural bloc, and
the detachment of the peasants, led by a part of the intellectuals
(officers during the war), from the great landowners. So one got

73 At the elections of 1913 the first under universal suffrage Giolitti came
to an agreement with Count Gentiloni, the president of the Catholic Electoral
Union of Italy, whereby Catholic voters would support the governmental candi-
dates in order to check the advance of the socialists.

74 Luigi Albertini (1871-1941) became editor oiCorriere della Sera in 1900, and
built it up into the major bourgeois newspaper in Italy. He was a liberal-
conservative, in favour of intervention in the war but anti fascist; he was removed
from the editorship of the paper in 1925, whereafter the Corriere was aligned behind
the fascist regime.

76 Antonio Salandra (1853 1931), a bourgeois politician of the Right, was
prime minister in 19 14 15; he was forced to resign under neutralist pressure
because of his support for intervention in the War, but became prime minister
again 1915-16 after the interventionists had won the day.

Francesco Nitti (1 868-1953) was an economist and centrist politician, prime
minister 1919 20.

* The Sicilians have to be considered separately. They have always had a lion's
share in all Ministries from i860 onwards, and have had several Presidents of the
Council unlike the Mezzogiorno, whose first leader was Salandra. This Sicilian
"invasion" is to be explained by the blackmailing policy of the island's parties,
who secretly have always maintained a "separatist" spirit in favour of England.
Crispi's accusation' 6 was, in an ill considered form, the manifestation of a pre-
occupation which really obsessed the most responsible and sensitive national
ruling group.

76 See note 26 on p. 67.

NOTES ON ITALIAN HISTORY

97

Sardism, 77 one got the Sicilian reformist party (the so-called Bonomi
parliamentary group was constituted by Bonomi and 22 Sicilian
deputies), 78 with its extreme separatist wing represented by Sicilia
Nuova; and one got the Rinnovamento group in the Mezzogiorno,
made up of war-veterans, which attempted to set up regional action
parties similar to that of Sardinia.* In this movement, the autono-
mous importance of the peasant masses decreases progressively
from Sardinia via the Mezzogiorno to Sicily, depending on the
organised strength, the prestige, and the ideological pressure
exercised by the great landowners. In Sicily these are maximally
well-organised and united; in Sardinia on the other hand they have
relatively small importance. The relative independence of the
respective intellectual strata varies in a similar fashion — in inverse
proportion, of course, to that of the landowners.**

In order to analyse the socio-political function of the intellectuals,
it is necessary to recall and examine their psychological attitude
towards the fundamental classes which they put into contact in the
various fields. 80 Do they have a "paternalistic" attitude towards the
instrumental classes? Or do they think they are an organic
expression of them? Do they have a "servile" attitude towards the
ruling classes, or do they think that they themselves are leaders, an
integral part of the ruling classes? During the Risorgimento, the
so-called Action Party had a "paternalistic" attitude; it therefore
only succeeded to a very limited extent in bringing the great
popular masses into contact with the State. So-called "trans-
formism" 81 was only the parliamentary expression of the fact that
the Action Party was incorporated in molecular fashion by the

" Sardismo was a Sardinian autonomist movement which developed after the
First World War. The Partito Sardo d'Azione was founded in 1920, but split when
the fascists came to power. One section joined the fascists, another, led notably by
Emilio Lussu, joined the A ventine opposition; its leaders were exiled, but returned
to revive the party during the Resistance (1943 5).

' 8 Ivanoe Bonomi (1873 1952) was at first a reformist socialist. Expelled from
the PSI together with Bissolati in 19 12, he remained in parliament as an inde-
pendent centrist politician, and was prime minister ig2i 22.

* See Torraca's review Volonld, the transformation of Popolo Romano, etc."

79 Francesco Torraca (1853 '938), Professor of comparative, and later Italian,
literature at Naples University, and a senator from 1920.

** By "intellectuals" must be understood not those strata commonly described
by this term, but in general the entire social stratum which exercises an organisa-
tional function in the wide sense- whether in the field of production, or in that of
culture, or in that of political administration. They correspond to the NCOs and
junior officers in the army, and also partly to the higher officers who have risen
from the ranks.

80 See "The Formation of the Intellectuals" on pp. 5-14 above.

81 See note 8 on p. 58 above.

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Moderates, and that the popular masses were decapitated, not
absorbed into the ambit of the new State.

The relation between city and countryside is the necessary
starting-point for the study of the fundamental motor forces of
Italian history, and of the programmatic points in the light of
which the Action Party's policies during the Risorgimento should
be considered and judged. Schematically, one might have this
picture: I. the Northern urban force; 2. the Southern rural force;
3. the Northern-Central rural force; 4. the rural force of Sicily;
5. that of Sardinia. The first of these forces retains its function of
"locomotive" in any case; what is needed, therefore, is an examina-
tion of the various "most advantageous" combinations for building
a "train" to move forward through history as fast as possible.
Meanwhile the first force initially has its own problems: internal
ones — of organisation, of how to articulate its own homogeneity, of
politico-military leadership (Piedmontese hegemony, 82 relations
between Milan and Turin, etc.). But it remains a constant that if
this force has attained a certain level of unity and combativity, it
quite automatically exercises an "indirect" directive function over
the others. Moreover, it would appear that its assumption, during
the various phases of the Risorgimento, of an intransigent position
of struggle against foreign domination had the result of stirring up
the progressive forces of the South: hence the relative synchronism,
but not simultaneity, of the movements of 1820-21, of 1831, of
1848. 83 In 1859-60, this historico-political "mechanism" operated
to maximum effect, since the North initiated the struggle, the
Centre came over peacefully (or almost so), and in the South the
Bourbon State collapsed under the (relatively weak) thrust of the
Garibaldini. This happened because the Action Party (Garibaldi)
intervened at the right time, after the Moderates (Cavour) had
organised the North and Centre; i.e. it was not the same politico-
military leadership (Moderates or Action Party) which organised
the relative simultaneity, but the (mechanical) collaboration of the
two leaderships, integrating successfully.

The first force therefore had to tackle the problem of organising
around itself the urban forces of the other national sectors, and
especially of the South. This problem was the most difficult, fraught

82 See "The Function of Piedmont" on pp. 104 1 06 below.

83 1820-21 was the year of the first wave of "carbonarist" revolutions in Italy,
France, Spain, Greece, etc. Only the Greek revolution had any durable results,
but in various of the Italian states the risings had some initial success, notably in
Piedmont, and at Naples. The second wave of carbonarist risings occurred in
1 83 1, affecting notably Modena, Parma and the Papal State.

NOTES ON ITALIAN HISTORY

99

with contradictions and undercurrents which unleashed torrents of
passionate feelings (a farcical solution of these contradictions was
the so-called parliamentary revolution of 1876). 84 But its solution,
precisely for this reason, was one of the cruxes in the nation's
development. The urban forces are socially homogeneous, hence
must occupy positions of perfect equality. That was theoretically
true, but historically the question posed itself differently: the urban
forces of the North were clearly at the head of their national sector,
while for the urban forces of the South that was not true, at least
not to the same extent. The urban forces of the North had therefore
to persuade those of the South that their directive function should
be limited to ensuring the "leadership" of North over South in a
general relation of city to countryside. In other words, the directive
function of the Southern urban forces could not be other than a
subordinate moment of the vaster directive function of the North.
The most strident contradiction was created by this series of facts.
The urban force of the South could not be considered as something
on its own, independent of that of the North. To pose the question
in such a way would have meant asserting in advance an incurable
"national" rift — a rift so serious that not even a federalist solution
would have been able to heal it. It would have meant asserting the
existence of separate nations, between which all that could have
been achieved was a diplomatic-military alliance against the
common enemy, Austria. (The sole element of community or
solidarity, in short, would have consisted simply in having a
"common" enemy.) In reality, however, there existed only certain
"aspects" of such a national question, not "all" the aspects nor
even the most essential ones. The most serious aspect was the weak
position of the Southern urban forces in relation to the rural forces,
an unfavourable relation which sometimes took the form of a
literal subjugation of the city to the countryside. The close links
between the urban forces of North and South gave to the latter the
strength which came from representing the prestige of the former,
and were destined to help the Southern urban forces to gain their
autonomy, to acquire consciousness of their historical leadership
function in a "concrete" and not merely theoretical and abstract
manner, suggesting the solutions to give to the great regional
problems. It was natural that in the South there should be strong
forces of opposition to unity. The weightiest task in resolving the
situation in any case fell to the urban forces of the North, which not

In 1876 the "Left" in parliament formed a Ministry for the first time.

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only had to convince their "brothers" of the South, but had to
begin [to convince] themselves of this political system as an entity.
In practical terms, therefore, the question posed itself in the
existence of a strong centre of political leadership, with which
strong and popular personalities from the South and the islands
would necessarily have had to collaborate. The problem of creating
unity between North and South was closely linked with, and to a
great extent absorbed into the problem of creating a cohesion and
solidarity among all the national urban forces.*

The Northern-Central rural forces posed in their turn a series of
problems which the urban force of the North had to confront in
order to establish a normal city-countryside relationship, elimina-
ting interferences and influences extraneous in origin to the develop-
ment of the new State. In these rural forces, two currents had to be
distinguished: the secular, and the clerico- Austrian. The clerical
force was strongest in Lombardy-Veneto, as well as in Tuscany and
in a part of the Papal State. The secular force was strongest in
Piedmont, but had varying influence in the rest of Italy too — not
only in the Papal Legations (especially Romagna) but also in the
other regions, even including the Mezzogiorno and the Islands. If
they had resolved these immediate relations successfully, the
Northern urban forces would have set a rhythm for all similar
questions on a national scale. On this whole series of problems, the
Action Party failed totally. It in fact limited itself to making into
a question of principle, and into an essential element of its pro-
gramme, what was simply a question of the political terrain upon
which it might have been possible to focus, and find a legal solution
for, such problems : the question of the Constituent Assembly. One
cannot say that the Moderate Party failed, since its objectives were
the organic expansion of Piedmont, and soldiers for the Piedmontese
army rather than insurrections or armies of Garibaldini on too
large a scale.

Why did the Action Party not pose the agrarian question
globally ? That the Moderates would not pose it was obvious : their
approach to the national question required a bloc of all the right-
wing forces — including the classes of the great landowners — around
Piedmont as a State and as an army. Austria's threat to resolve the
agrarian question in favour of the peasants — a threat carried out
in Galicia againsi. the Polish nobles in favour of the Ruthenian

* The line of argument developed above is in fact valid For all three sectors of
the South : Naples and the mainland, Sicily, Sardinia.

NOTES ON ITALIAN HISTORY

IOI

peasants 85 — not only threw into confusion those in Italy whose
interests would have been touched, and caused all the oscillations
of the aristocracy (Milan events of February 1853, and act of
homage by the most illustrious Milanese families to Franz Josef on
the very eve of the Belfiore hangings); 86 it also paralysed the Action
Party itself, which in this field thought like the Moderates, and
considered as "national" the aristocracy and the landowners, and
not the millions of peasants. Only after February 1 853 did Mazzini
begin to make the occasional allusion of a substantially democratic
kind (see his Correspondence for the period), but he was not capable
of a decisive radicalisation of his abstract programme. The political
conduct of the Garibaldini in Sicily in i 860 should be studied — a
political conduct which was dictated by Crispi: the peasant move-
ments of insurrection against the barons were crushed pitilessly,
and the anti-peasant National Guard was created. Typical was the
repressive expedition of Nino Bixio into the Catania region, where
the insurrections were most violent. Yet even in G. C. Abba's
Noterelle there are elements showing that the agrarian question was
the spring to set the great masses in motion: it is enough to recall
Abba's conversations with the monk who goes off to meet the
Garibaldini immediately after the Marsala landing. 87 In certain of
G. Verga's short stories there are picturesque elements from these
peasant risings, which the National Guard smothered by means of
terror and mass shootings. 88 This aspect of the expedition of the
Thousand has never been studied and analysed.

The failure to pose the agrarian question led to the near impossi-
bility of resolving the problem of clericalism and the anti-unitarian

86 In 1845 the nobles and bourgeois of Galicia rose against the Austrians; the
latter put down the uprising by mobilising the Ruthenian peasants of the region,
promising them land in order to gain their support.

86 For the Milan insurrection of February 1853, see note 52 on p. 82. Later
in the same year the Austrians hanged a number of Mazzini's followers in the
valley of Belfiore, near Verona.

87 In Giuseppe Abba's Noterelle di uno dei Mille, the author recounts how a
monk came to meet the Garibaldini and informed them eloquently of the
peasantry's thirst for land.

88 Notably in the story Liberia, an account of a massacre of local notables by
a village population excited by the idea that the Garibaldini had brought them
freedom and equality. After the massacre, the peasants find that they can't get on
without the "gentlemen" — a characteristic motif of Verga's fundamentally
conservative populism — and are then led away to prison in the city, without ever
understanding what they have done wrong. The story ends with one of the
prisoners saying as he is sentenced : "Where are you taking me? To gaol ? Why,
why ? I never got so much as a square yard of land ! Didn't they say that freedom
had come?"

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attitude of the Pope. 89 In this respect, the Moderates were far more
audacious than the Action Party: it is true that they did not
distribute ecclesiastical property among the peasants, but they used
it to create a new stratum of great and medium landowners tied to
the new political situation, and did not hesitate to lay hands on
landed property, even if it was only that of the Orders. The Action
Party, moreover, was paralysed in its action towards the peasants
by Mazzini's wish for a religious reform. This not only was of no
interest to the great rural masses, it on the contrary rendered them
susceptible to being incited against the new heretics. The example
of the French Revolution was there to show that the Jacobins, who
had succeeded in crushing all the right-wing parties up to and
including the Girondins on the terrain of the agrarian question,
who had succeeded not merely in preventing a rural coalition
against Paris but in multiplying their supporters in the provinces,
were damaged by Robespierre's attempts to instigate a religious
reform — although such a reform had, in the real historical process,
an immediate significance and concreteness.* [1934; 1st version
I929-3 0 ]

THE MODERATES AND THE INTELLECTUALS

Why the Moderates were bound to gain the upper hand as far as
the majority of intellectuals were concerned. Gioberti 92 and
Mazzini. Gioberti offered the intellectuals a philosophy which
appeared original and at the same time national, such as would
put Italy at least on the same level as the more advanced nations,
and give a new dignity to Italian thought. Mazzini, on the other
hand only offered woolly statements, and philosophical allusions
which to many intellectuals, especially Neapolitans, must have

89 i.e. the Pope's refusal to accept the end of his temporal power in the Papal
States, and his consequent opposition to Italian unity before the Risorgimento,
and refusal to come to terms with the post Risorgimento Italian state — until the
Concordat of 1929.

* It would be necessary to study carefully the real agrarian policy of the Roman
Republic, 80 and the true character of the repressive mission entrusted by Mazzini
to Felice Orsini 81 in the Romagna and the Marche: in this period up to 1870 (and
even afterwards), the term "brigandry" almost always meant the chaotic, turbu-
lent movement, punctuated by ferocity, of the peasants trying to gain possession
of the land.

80 The Roman Republic was proclaimed in January 1849, and Mazzini was
elected to head the triumvirate which governed it. It fell to the French after a
three-month siege in June of the same year.

81 See note 16 on p. 62.
8a See note 36 on p. 399.

NOTES ON ITALIAN HISTORY

IO3

appeared empty chatter (the Abbe Galiani had taught them to
ridicule such ways of thinking and reasoning). 93

Problem of the school: activity on the part of the Moderates
to introduce the pedagogic principle of monitorial teaching
(Confalonieri, Capponi, etc.) ; movement of Ferrante Aporti and
the foundling schools, linked to the problem of pauperism. 94 Among
the Moderates appeared the only concrete pedagogic movement
opposed to the "Jesuitical" school; it could not fail to be effective,
both among the lay, to whom it gave a personality of their own
within the school, and among the liberalising and anti-Jesuitical
clergy (ferocious hostility to Ferrante Aporti, etc.; the sheltering
and education of abandoned children was a clerical monopoly, and
these initiatives broke the monopoly). Scholastic activities of a
liberal or liberalising character have great significance for grasping
the mechanism of the Moderates' hegemony over the intellectuals.
Scholastic activity, at all its levels, has an enormous importance
(economic as well) for intellectuals of all degrees. And at that time
it had an even greater importance than it does today, given the
narrowness of the social structures and the few roads open to the
initiative of the petite bourgeoisie. (Today, journalism, the political
parties, industry, a very extensive State apparatus, etc., have
broadened the possibilities of employment to an unheard of extent.)

The hegemony of a directive centre over the intellectuals asserts
itself by two principal routes: 1. a general conception of life, a

93 The abbe Galiani (1728-1787) was a Neapolitan economist (opposed to free
trade and the theories of the physiocrats) and man of letters. Noted as a wit, he
was typical of the enlightened, rationalist intellectual stratum of Naples which
was to become the "Jacobins" of the Parthenopean Republic of 1799.

•* The monitor system was devised by Bell and Lancaster in late eighteenth-
century England, and Confalonieri (see note 51 on p. 81) made the first attempt to
introduce it into Italy in 1819-21.

Gino Capponi (1792-1876), educationalist, historian and politician, was the
author of Frammento sull'educazione (1841), in which he expressed his scepticism
about any attempt on the part of teachers to predetermine "from outside" the
development of the "spiritual activity" of children. This type of Rousseauesque,
liberal theory of learning is criticised by Gramsci, e.g. Int. p. 115: "it is believed
that a child's mind is like a ball of string which the teacher helps to unwind. In
reality each generation educates the new generation, i.e. forms it, and education
is a struggle against instincts linked to the elementary biological functions, a
struggle against nature, to dominate it and create the 'contemporary' man of the
epoch."

Ferrante Aporti (1 791-1858) was an educationalist, founder of the first infant
schools in Italy (Cremona 1829, etc.). The ideology behind these schools derived
from Rousseau and Pestalozzi; the first model for them was Owen's 181 6 infant
school in Scotland. They were opposed strongly by the Church in Italy, both for
their liberal ideological connotations and for the challenge they posed to the
clerical monopoly.

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philosophy (Gioberti), which offers to its adherents an intellectual
"dignity" providing a principle of differentiation from the old
ideologies which dominated by coercion, and an element of struggle
against them; 2. a scholastic programme, an educative principle
and original pedagogy which interests that fraction of the intel-
lectuals which is the most homogeneous and the most numerous
(the teachers, from the primary teachers to the university pro-
fessors), and gives them an activity of their own in the technical
field.

The Scholars' congresses which were repeatedly organised in the
period of the early Risorgimento had a double effect: 1. they
regrouped the intellectuals of the highest grade, concentrating them
and multiplying their influence; 2. they obtained a more rapid
concentration and a more decisive orientation of the intellectuals
of the lower grades, who normally tend to follow the university
professors and great scholars, through spirit of caste.

The study of encyclopaedic and specialised reviews furnishes
another aspect of the Moderates' hegemony. A party like that of
the Moderates offered the mass of the intellectuals all the satis-
factions for their general needs which can be offered by a govern-
ment (by a governing party) through the State services. After
1848-49, the Piedmontese State served perfectly as far as this
function of Italian governing party was concerned; it welcomed the
exiled intellectuals, and provided a model of what a future unified
State would do. [1934]

THE FUNCTION OF PIEDMONT

The function of Piedmont in the Italian Risorgimento is that of a
"ruling class". In reality, what was involved was not that through-
out the peninsula there existed nuclei of a homogeneous ruling class
whose irresistible tendency to unite determined the formation of the
new Italian national State. These nuclei existed, indubitably, but
their tendency to unite was extremely problematic; also, more
importantly, they — each in its own sphere — were not "leading". 95
The "leader" presupposes the "led", and who was "led" by these
nuclei ? These nuclei did not wish to "lead" anybody, i.e. they did
not wish to concord their interests and aspirations with the interests

** This passage presents insuperable translation difficulties (see note 5 on p. 55).
Gramsci uses "dirigente" here both in its usual sense of "ruling", and in contra-
distinction to "dominante" — when we have translated it "leading". Inevitably good
English has had to some extent to be sacrificed here, in the interests of fidelity to
Gramsci's original text.

NOTES ON ITALIAN HISTORY

and aspirations of other groups. They wished to "dominate" and
not to "lead". Furthermore, they wanted their interests to dominate,
rather than their persons ; in other words, they wanted a new force,
independent of every compromise and condition, to become the
arbiter of the Nation: this force was Piedmont and hence the
function of the monarchy. Thus Piedmont had a function which
can, from certain aspects, be compared to that of a party, i.e. of the
leading personnel of a social group (and in fact people always
spoke of the "Piedmont party") : with the additional feature that
it was in fact a State, with an army, a diplomatic service, etc.

This fact is of the greatest importance for the concept of "passive
revolution" 96 — the fact, that is, that what was involved was not a
social group which "led" other groups, but a State which, even
though it had limitations as a power, "led" the group which should
have been "leading" and was able to put at the latter's disposal an
army and a politico-diplomatic strength. One may refer to what
has been called the function of "Piedmont" in international
politico-historical language. Serbia before the war posed as the
"Piedmont" of the Balkans. (Moreover France after 1789 and for
many years, up to the coup d'etat of Louis Napoleon, was in this
sense the Piedmont of Europe.) That Serbia did not succeed as
Piedmont succeeded is due to the fact that after the war there
occurred a political awakening of the peasantry such as did not
exist after 1848. If one studies closely what is happening in the
kingdom of Yugoslavia, one sees that within it the "Serbian" forces
or those favourable to Serb hegemony are the forces which oppose
agrarian reform. Both in Croatia and in the other non-Serb regions
we find that there is an anti-Serb rural intellectual bloc, and that
the conservative forces are favourable to Serbia. In this case, too,
there do not exist local "hegemonic" groups — they are under the
hegemony of Serbia ; meanwhile the subversive forces do not have,
as a social function, any great importance. Anybody who observes
Serb affairs superficially might wonder what would have happened
if so-called brigandage of the kind which occurred round Naples
and in Sicily from i860 to 1870 had occurred in Yugoslavia after
191 9. Undoubtedly the phenomenon is the same, but' the social
weight and political experience of the peasant masses are quite
different since 191 9 from what they were after 1848. The important
thingis to analyse more profoundly the significance of a "Piedmont"-
type function in passive revolutions — i.e. the fact that a State

»• See note ir on p. 59, and pp. 106-120 below.

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replaces the local social groups in leading a struggle of renewal. It
is one of the cases in which these groups have the function of
"domination" without that of "leadership" : dictatorship without
hegemony. The hegemony will be exercised by a part of the social
group over the entire group, and not by the latter over other forces
in order to give power to the movement, radicalise it, etc. on the
"Jacobin" model.

Studies aimed at capturing the analogies between the period
which followed the fall of Napoleon and that which followed the
war of 19,14-18. The analogies are only seen from two viewpoints:
territorial division, and the more conspicuous and superficial one
of the attempt to give a stable legal organisation to international
relations (Holy Alliance and League of Nations). However, it
would seem that the most important characteristic to examine is
the one which has been called that of "passive revolution" — a
problem whose existence is not manifest, since an external parallel-
ism with the France of 1 789-1815 is lacking. And yet, everybody
recognises that the war of 1914-18 represents an historical break, in
the sense that a whole series of questions which piled up individually
before 191 4 have precisely formed a "mound", modifying the
general structure of the previous process. It is enough to think of
the importance which the trade-union phenomenon has assumed,
a general term in which various problems and processes of develop-
ment, of differing importance and significance, are lumped together
(parliamentarianism, industrial organisation, democracy, liberalism,
etc.), but which objectively reflects the fact that a new social force
has been constituted, and has a weight which can no longer be
ignored, etc. [1933]

THE CONCEPT OF PASSIVE REVOLUTION

The concept of "passive revolution" 97 must be rigorously derived
from the two fundamental principles of political science: 1. that no
social formation disappears as long as the productive forces which
have developed within it still find room for further forward move-
ment; 2. that a society does not set itself tasks for whose solution the
necessary conditions have not already been incubated, etc. 98 It

87 See note 11 on p. 59; also introduction to Notes on Italian History, pp. 44-7.

88 These principles, here quoted from memory by Gramsci, are taken from
Marx's Preface to The Critique of Political Economy : "No social order ever perishes
before all the productive forces for which there is room in it have developed ; and
new, higher relations of production never appear before the material conditions
of their existence have matured in the womb of the old society itself. Therefore
mankind always sets itself only such tasks as it can solve . . ."

NOTES ON ITALIAN HISTORY 107

goes without saying that these principles must first be developed
critically in all their implications, and purged of every residue of
mechanicism and fatalism. They must therefore be referred back
to the description of the three fundamental moments into which a
"situation" or an equilibrium of forces can be distinguished, with
the greatest possible stress on the second moment (equilibrium of
political forces), and especially on the third moment (politico-
military equilibrium). 99

It may be observed that Pisacane, in his Essays, is concerned
precisely with this third moment: unlike Mazzini, he understands
all the importance of the presence in Italy of a war-hardened
Austrian army, always ready to intervene at any point on the
peninsula, and with moreover behind it all the military strength
of the Habsburg Empire — an ever-ready matrix of new armies of
reinforcement. Another historical element to be recalled is the
development of Christianity in the bosom of the Roman Empire.
Also the current phenomenon of Gandhism in India, and Tolstoy's
theory of non-resistance to evil, both of which have so much in
common with the first phase of Christianity (before the Edict of
Milan) . 10 ° Gandhism and Tolstoyism are naive theorisations of the
"passive revolution" with religious overtones. Certain so-called
"liquidationist" 101 movements and the reactions they provoked

" For the three "moments" to which Gramsci refers, see "Analysis of Situations",
on pp. 175 185 below.

1 °° The Edict whereby Constantine, in a.d. 313, recognised Christianity as the
official religion of the Empire.

101 This could be a reference to the liquidationist tendency in the Russian
Social-Democratic Party during 1908 and in the following years, condemned at
the Fifth Party Congress in December 1908 and the subject of numerous attacks
by Lenin who identified its essence as the desire for the Party to abandon illegal
activity. However, it seems likely that the reference is to more recent events
within the PCI. Between 1922 and 1924, the main reason forGramsci's continued
support for Bordiga was his fear of the "liquidationism" of Tasca and the Right,
i.e. their readiness to accept an interpretation of the United Front policy (an
interpretation which was incidentally also that of the Comintern) which would
lead to fusion with the PSI and the effective "liquidation" of the PCI as formed
at Livorno. See, for example, exchange of letters between Gramsci and Piero
Sraffa, in Ordine Nwvo, April 1924. From 1925 on, the Right was incorporated
into the leadership, and after Gramsci's arrest the party was in effect led by
Togliatti and Tasca together. After the Comintern's left turn in 1929, Tasca —
who was close to Bukharin, Humbert-Droz, etc. was accused like them of
"liquidationism", in the "right" period of 1927 28. Gramsci as always is concerned
to establish a dialectical position, rejecting both the "liquidationists" who make
passive revolution into a programme and abandon the revolutionary perspective,
and also those who react against this by a mechanical, and voluntarist, advocacy
of frontal attack when this can only lead to defeat. In fact he is faithf ul to his
interpretation of the "dual perspective" of the Fifth World Congress, against
both the "right" period of 1927 28 and the "left" period which followed it.

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should also be recalled, in connection with the tempo and form of
certain situations (especially of the third moment). The point of
departure for the study will be Vincenzo Cuoco's work on the
subject; but it is obvious that Cuoco's phrase for the Neapolitan
revolution of 1799 can be no more than a cue, since the concept
has been completely modified and enriched.

Can the concept of "passive revolution", in the sense attributed
by Vincenzo Cuoco to the first period of the Italian Risorgimento,
be related to the concept of "war of position" in contrast to war of
manoeuvre? 102 In other words, did these concepts have a meaning
after the French Revolution, and can the twin figures of Proudhon
and Gioberti be explained in terms of the panic created by the
Terror of 1793, as Sorellism can be in terms of the panic following
the Paris massacres of 187 1 ? In other words, does there exist an
absolute identity between war of position and passive revolution?
Or at least does there exist, or can there be conceived, an entire
historical period in which the two concepts must be considered
identical — until the point at which the war of position once again
becomes a war of manoeuvre ?

The "restorations" need to be judged "dynamically", as a "ruse
of providence" in Vico's sense. 103 One problem is the following: in
the struggle Cavour-Mazzini, in which Cavour is the exponent of
the passive revolution/ war of position and Mazzini of popular
initiative/ war of manoeuvre, are not both of them indispensable to
precisely the same extent ? Yet it has to be taken into account that,
whereas Cavour was aware of his role (at least up to a certain point)
in as much as he understood the role of Mazzini, the latter does not
seem to have been aware either of his own or of Cavour's. If, on the
contrary, Mazzini had possessed such awareness — in other words,
if he had been a realistic politician and not a visionary apostle (i.e.
if he had not been Mazzini) — then the equilibrium which resulted
from the convergence of the two men's activities would have been
different, would have been more favourable to Mazzinianism. In
other words, the Italian State would have been constituted on a less
retrograde and more modern basis. And since similar situations

102 See pp. 229-39 below, and introduction_to "State and Civil Society", pp.
206 9.

103 The actual phrase is not Vico's it is perhaps an echo of Hegel's "ruse of
reason" — but the idea is. Vico's theory of divine providence held that men
themselves constructed a world according to a divine plan of which they were not
aware. "For out of the passions of men each bent on his private advantage, for the
sake of which they would live like wild beasts in the wilderness, it [providence]
has made the civil institutions by which they may live in human society." Vico,
The New Science, Cornell, 1968, p. 62.

NOTES ON ITALIAN HISTORY

almost always arise in every historical development, one should see
if it is not possible to draw from this some general principle of
political science and art. One may apply to the concept of passive
revolution (documenting it from the Italian Risorgimento) the
interpretative criterion of molecular changes which in fact pro-
gressively modify the pre-existing composition of forces, and hence
become the matrix of new changes. Thus, in the Italian Risorgi-
mento, it has been seen how the composition of the moderate forces
was progressively modified by the passing over to Cavourism (after
1848) of ever new elements of the Action Party, so that on the one
hand neo-Guelphism 104 was liquidated, and on the other the
Mazzinian movement was impoverished (Garibaldi's oscillations,
etc. also belong to this process). This element is therefore the initial
phase of the phenomenon which is later called "transformism", 108
and whose importance as a form of historical development has not
as yet, it seems, been adequately emphasised.

Pursue further the notion that, while Cavour was aware of his
role in as much as he was critically aware of that of Mazzini, the
latter, as a consequence of his scanty or non-existent awareness of
Cavour's role, had in fact little awareness of his own either. Hence
his vacillations (for example at Milan in the period following the
Five Days, 106 and on other occasions) and his ill-timed initiatives —
which therefore became factors only benefiting the policies of
Piedmont. This is an exemplification of the theoretical problem,
posed in the Poverty of Philosophy, of how the dialectic must be
understood. 107 Neither Proudhon nor Mazzini understood the
necessity for each member of a dialectical opposition to seek to be
itself totally and throw into the struggle all the political and moral
"resources" it possesses, since only in that way can it achieve a
genuine dialectical "transcendence" of its opponent. The Tetort will
be made that this was not understood by Gioberti or the theoreti-
cians of the passive revolution or "revolution/restoration"* either,
but in fact their case is a different one. Their theoretical "incompre-

io« See note 9 on p. 58.

106 See note 8 on p. 58.

108 The insurrection in May 1848 against the Austrians.

107 See especially chapter II.

* The political literature produced on '48 by Marxist scholars will have to
be looked at, but there does not appear to be much to hope for in this direction.
What happened in Italy, for instance, was only studied with the help of Bolton
King's books, etc. 108

108 Bolton King (1860-1937) was an English historian, author of Life of Mazzini
(1902), A History of Italian Unity (1899; Italian translation 1909 10); Fascism in
Italy (1931).

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hension" expressed in practice the necessity for the "thesis" to
achieve its full development, up to the point where it would even
succeed in incorporating a part of the antithesis itself — in order,
that is, not to allow itself to be "transcended" in the dialectical
opposition. The thesis alone in fact develops to the full its potential
for struggle, up to the point where it absorbs even the so-called
representatives of the antithesis: it is precisely in this that the
passive revolution or revolution/restoration consists. The problem
of the political struggle's transition from a "war of manoeuvre" to
a "war of position" certainly needs to be considered at this juncture.
In Europe this transition took place after 1848, and was not under-
stood by Mazzini and his followers, as it was on the contrary by
certain others: the same transition took place after 1871, etc. At the
time, the question was hard to understand for men like Mazzini,
in view of the fact that military wars had not yet furnished the
model — and indeed military theory was developing in the direction
of war of movement. One will have to see whether there are any
relevant allusions in Pisacane, who was the military theoretician of
Mazzinianism.

However, the main reason for studying Pisacane is that he was
the only one who tried to give the Action Party a substantive and
not merely formal content — as an antithesis transcending traditional
positions. Nor can it be said that, for such an historical outcome to
be achieved, a popular armed insurrection was an imperative
necessity — as Mazzini believed to the point of obsession (i.e. not
realistically, but with the fervour of a missionary). The popular
intervention which was not possible in the concentrated and
instantaneous form of an insurrection, did not take place even in
the "diffused" and capillary form of indirect pressure — though the
latter would have been possible, and perhaps was in fact the
indispensable premiss for the former. The concentrated or instanta-
neous form was rendered impossible by the military technique of
the time — but only partially so; in other words the impossibility
existed in so far as that concentrated and instantaneous form was
not preceded by long ideological and political preparation, organi-
cally devised in advance to reawaken popular passions and enable
them to be concentrated and brought simultaneously to detonation
point.

After 1848, only the Moderates made a critique of the methods
which had led up to the debacle. (Indeed the entire Moderate
movement renewed itself: neo-Guelphism was liquidated, new men
occupied the top positions of leadership.) No self-criticism, by

NOTES ON ITALIAN HISTORY

III

contrast, on the part of the Mazzinians — or rather only a self-
criticism by liquidation, in the sense that many elements abandoned
Mazzini and came to form the left wing of the Piedmontese party.
The only "orthodox" attempt — i.e. from within — was Pisacane's
essays; but these never became the platform for a new organic
policy, notwithstanding the fact that Mazzini himself recognised
that Pisacane had a "strategic conception" of the Italian national
revolution.

Other aspects of the relation "passive revolution/war of position"
in the Italian Risorgimento can be studied too. The most important
of these are, on the one hand what can be called the "personnel"
aspect, and on the other that of the "revolutionary levy". The
"personnel" aspect can precisely be compared to what occurred in
the World War, in the relationship on the one hand between career
officers and those called up from the reserves, and on the other
between conscripts and volunteers/commandos. The career officers
corresponded in the Risorgimento to the regular, organic, tradi-
tional, etc. political parties, which at the moment of action (1848)
revealed themselves inept or almost so, and which in 1848-49 were
overtaken by the popular-Mazzinian-democratic tidal wave. This
tidal wave was chaotic, formless, "extempore" so to speak, but it
nonetheless, under an improvised leadership (or nearly so — at any
rate not one formed beforehand as was the case with the Moderate
party), obtained successes which were indubitably greater than
those obtained by the Moderates : the Roman Republic and Venice
showed a very notable strength of resistance. 108 In the period
after '48 the relation between the two forces — the regular and the
"charismatic" — became organised around Cavour and Garibaldi
and produced the greatest results (although these results were later
confiscated by Cavour).

This "personnel" aspect is related to that of the "levy". It should
be observed that the technical difficulty on which Mazzini's
initiatives always came to grief was precisely that of the "revolu-
tionary levy". It would be interesting, from this point of view, to
study Ramorino's attempt to invade Savoy, together with the
attempts of the Bandiera brothers, Pisacane, etc., 110 and to compare
them with the situation which faced Mazzini in '48 at Milan and

101 The Roman Republic under Garibaldi, and Venice under Manin, held out
for several months against the Austrians in 1849 despite the demoralisation
following the defeat of the Piedmontese at Novara.

110 Ramorino tried to invade Savoy in 1834; the Bandiera brothers landed in
Calabria in 1844; Pisacane (see note 17 on p. 62) committed suicide after the
failure of his landing at Sapri in 1857.

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in '49 in Rome — situations which he did not have the capacity to
organise. 111 These attempts of a few individuals could not fail to be
nipped in the bud; it would have been a miracle indeed if the
reactionary forces, concentrated and able to operate freely (i.e.
unopposed by any broad movement of the population), had not
crushed initiatives of the Ramorino, Pisacane, Bandiera type —
even if these had been better prepared than in fact they were. In
the second period (1859-60), the "revolutionary levy" (which is
what Garibaldi's Thousand in fact was) was made possible firstly
by the fact that Garibaldi grafted himself on to the Piedmontese
national forces, and secondly by the fact that the English fleet
effectively protected the Marsala landing and the capture of
Palermo, and neutralised the Bourbon fleet. In Milan after the Five
Days and in republican Rome, Mazzini had opportunities to set up
recruitment centres for an organic levy, but he had no intention of
doing so. This was the source of his conflict with Garibaldi in Rome,
and the reason for his ineffectiveness in Milan compared with
Cattaneo and the Milanese democratic group. 112

In any case, although the course of events in the Risorgimento
revealed the enormous importance of the "demagogic" mass move-
ment, with its leaders thrown up by chance, improvised, etc., it was
nevertheless in actual fact taken over by the traditional organic
forces — in other words, by the parties of long standing, with
rationally-formed leaders, etc. And identical results occurred in all
similar political events. (Examples of this are the preponderance of
the Orleanists over the radical-democratic popular forces in France
in 1830; and, ultimately, the French Revolution of 1789 too — in
which Napoleon represents in the last analysis the triumph of the
organic bourgeois forces over the Jacobin petit-bourgeois forces.)

111 In 1848, after the successful "Five Days" insurrection in Milan and the
Austrian withdrawal to their "quadrilateral" of fortified towns, Mazzini arrived
in Milan and founded Italia del Popolo. With this organ, he attempted to combat
the notion of a fusion of Piedmont and Lombardy, in favour of his own aim of a
united, republican Italy. He failed to gain popular support for his views.

In 1849 (see note 90 on p. 102) Mazzini headed the Roman Republic. His policy
of entrusting the city's defences to the regular army rather than attempting to
mobilise the entire population was symbolised by his appointment of Rosselli,
a regular army general, rather than Garibaldi to command the defence forces.

112 Carlo Cattaneo (1801 69), sometimes called the first Italian positivist,
edited the influential // Politecnico. During the Five Days of Milan (see previous
note) he headed the Council of War; at this time he was favourable to the policy
of the Piedmontese monarchy. However, he came to oppose the latter fiercely,
feeling that the Italian bourgeois revolution was being sacrificed to Piedmontese
ambitions. In 1867 he became a deputy in the Italian parliament, but refused to
take the oath of loyalty to the throne of Savoy.

NOTES ON ITALIAN HISTORY

"3

Similarly in the World War the victory of the old career officers
over the reservists, etc. In any case, the absence among the radical-
popular forces of any awareness of the role of the other side prevented
them from being fully aware of their own role either; hence from
weighing in the final balance of forces in proportion to their
effective power of intervention; and hence from determining a
more advanced result, on more progressive and modern lines.

Still in connection with the concept of "passive revolution" or
"revolution/restoration" in the Italian Risorgimento, it should be
noted that it is necessary to pose with great precision the problem
which in certain historiographical tendencies is called that of the
relations between the objective conditions and the subjective condi-
tions of an historical event. It seems obvious that the so-called
subjective conditions can never be missing when the objective
conditions exist, in as much as the distinction involved is simply one
of a didactic character. Consequently it is on the size and concentra-
tion of subjective forces that discussion can bear, and hence on the
dialectical relation between conflicting subjective forces.

It is necessary to avoid posing the problem in "intellectualistic"
rather than historico-political terms. Naturally it is not disputed
that intellectual "clairvoyance" of the terms of the struggle is
indispensable. But this clairvoyance is a political value only in as
much as it becomes disseminated passion, and in as much as it is
the premiss for a strong will. In many recent works on the Risorgi-
mento, it has been "revealed" that there existed individuals who saw
everything clearly (recall Piero Gobetti's emphasis on Ornato's 113
significance). But these "revelations" are self-destroying, precisely
because they are revelations; they demonstrate that what was
involved was nothing more than personal reflections which today
represent a form of "hindsight". In fact, they never effected a
juncture with actual reality, never became a general and operative
national-popular consciousness. Out of the Action Party and the
Moderates, which represented the real "subjective forces" of the
Risorgimento ? Without a shadow of doubt it was the Moderates,
precisely because they were also aware of the role of the Action
Party: thanks to this awareness, their "subjectivity" was of a
superior and more decisive quality. In Victor Emmanuel's crude,
sergeant-major's expression "we've got the Action Party in our

113 Luigi Ornato ( 1 7 87-1 842), an obscure Piedmontese thinker, left no published
work except a vulgarisation of Marcus Aurelius but enjoyed a high reputation,
e.g. with Gioberti. Gobetti saluted him in the Manifesto for the first number of
La Rivoluzione Liberate as the "philosopher of the risings of 1821", etc.

114 GRAMSCi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

pocket" there is more historico-political sense than in all Mazzini.
[1933]

FIRST EPILOGUE

The thesis of the "passive revolution" as an interpretation of the
Risorgimento period, and of every epoch characterised by complex
historical upheavals. Utility and dangers of this thesis. Danger of
historical defeatism, i.e. of indifferentism, since the whole way of
posing the question may induce a belief in some kind of fatalism,
etc. Yet the conception remains a dialectical one — in other words,
presupposes, indeed postulates as necessary, a vigorous antithesis
which can present intransigently all its potentialities for develop-
ment. Hence theory of the "passive revolution" not as a programme,
as it was for the Italian liberals of the Risorgimento, but as a
criterion of interpretation, in the absence of other active elements
to a dominant extent. (Hence struggle against the political morphin-
ism which exudes from Croce and from his historicism.) (It would
seem that the theory of the passive revolution is a necessary critical
corollary to the Introduction to the Critique of Political Economy.)
Revision of certain sectarian ideas on the theory of the party,
theories which precisely represent a form of fatalism of a "divine
right" type. Development of the concepts of mass party and small
elite party, and mediation between the two. (Theoretical and
practical mediation: is it theoretically possible for there to exist a
group, relatively small but still of significant size, let us say several
thousand strong, that is socially and ideologically homogeneous,
without its very existence demonstrating a widespread state of
affairs and corresponding state of mind which only mechanical,
external and hence transitory causes prevent from being expressed ?)
[i933]

MATERIAL FOR A CRITICAL ESSAY ON CROCE's TWO HISTORIES,
OF ITALY AND OF EUROPE 114

Historical relationship between the modem French state created by
the Revolution and the other modern states of continental Europe.
The comparison is vitally important — provided that it is not made
on the basis of abstract sociological schemas. It should be based on
the study of four elements: 1. revolutionary explosion in France

i.e. Staria d'ltalia dal 1871 al 1315, and Storia d'Europa nel secolo decimonono.

NOTES ON ITALIAN HISTORY

"5

with radical and violent transformation of social and political
relations; 2. European opposition to the French Revolution and to
any extension of it along class lines; 3. war between France, under
the Republic and Napoleon, and the rest of Europe — initially, in
order to avoid being stifled at birth, and subsequently with the aim
of establishing a permanent French hegemony tending towards the
creation of a universal empire; 4. national revolts against French
hegemony, and birth of the modern European states by successive
small waves of reform rather than by revolutionary explosions like
the original French one. The "successive waves" were made up of a
combination of social struggles, interventions from above of the
enlightened monarchy type, and national wars — with the two latter
phenomena predominating. The period of the "Restoration" is the
richest in developments of this kind; restoration becomes the first
policy whereby social struggles find sufficiently elastic frameworks
to allow the bourgeoisie to gain power without dramatic upheavals,
without the French machinery of terror. The old feudal classes are
demoted from their dominant position to a "governing" one, but
are not eliminated, nor is there any attempt to liquidate them as an
organic whole; instead of a class they become a "caste" with
specific cultural and psychological characteristics, but no longer
with predominant economic functions. Can this "model" for the
creation of the modern states be repeated in other conditions? Can
this be excluded absolutely, or could we say that at least partially
there can be similar developments in the form of the appearance of
planned economies ? 115 Can it be excluded for all states, or only for
the large ones ? The question is of the highest importance, because
the France-Europe model has created a mentality which is no less
significant for being "ashamed of itself " or for being an "instrument
of government". An important question related to the foregoing is
that of the function which the intellectuals thought they fulfilled
in this long, submerged process of political and social fragmentation
of the restoration. Classical German philosophy was the philosophy
of this period, and animated the liberal national movements from
1848 to 1870. Here too is the place to recall the Hegelian parallel
(carried over into the philosophy of praxis) between French practice
and German speculation. 116 In reality the parallel can be extended:
what is practice for the fundamental class becomes "rationality"

116 See "Americanism and Fordism" on pp. 277-318, which opens with a
passage which makes clear what Gramsci means by "planned economies". Sec
too "The history of Europe seen as 'passive revolution' " on pp. 11B-20.

116 See note 46 on p. 78.

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and speculation for its intellectuals (it is on the basis of these
historical relations that all modern philosophical idealism is to be
explained).

The conception of the State according to the productive function
of the social classes cannot be applied mechanically to the interpre-
tation of Italian and European history from the French revolution
throughout the nineteenth century. Although it is certain that for
the fundamental productive classes (capitalist bourgeoisie and
modern proletariat) the State is only conceivable as the concrete
form of a specific economic world, of a specific system of production,
this does not mean that the relationship of means to end can be
easily determined or takes the form of a simple schema, apparent
at first sight. It is true that conquest of power and achievement of
a new productive world are inseparable, and that propaganda for
one of them is also propaganda for the other, and that in reality it
is solely in this coincidence that the unity of the dominant class — at
once economic and political — resides.

But the complex problem arises of the relation of internal forces
in the country in question, of the relation of international forces, of
the country's geo-political position. In reality, the drive towards
revolutionary renewal may be initiated by the pressing needs of a
given country, in given circumstances, and you get the revolu-
tionary explosion in France, victorious internationally as well. But
the drive for renewal may be caused by the combination of pro-
gressive forces which in themselves are scanty and inadequate
(though with immense potential, since they represent their country's
future) with an international situation favourable to their expansion
and victory. Raffaele Ciasca's book on "The Origins of the National
Programme", while it proved that there existed in Italy the same
pressing problems as existed in ancien regime France, and a social
force which interpreted and represented these problems precisely in
the French sense, also proved that these forces were weak and the
problems remained at the level of "petty politics". 117 In any case,
one can see how, when the impetus of progress is not tightly linked
to a vast local economic development which is artificially limited
and repressed, but is instead the reflection of international develop-
ments which transmit their ideological currents to the periphery —
currents born on the basis of the productive development of the

117 Ciasca's book had been reviewed by Mondolfo in an article on interpreta-
tions of the Risorgimento written in 19 17, which Gramsci had republished in part
in II Grido del Popolo, 1 6 May 1 9 1 8. The social force referred to is clearly the PSI
and the socialist forces in general.

NOTES ON ITALIAN HISTORY

II 7

more advanced countries — then the group which is the bearer of
the new ideas is not the economic group but the intellectual
stratum, and the conception of the State advocated by them
changes aspect; it is conceived of as something in itself, as a rational
absolute. The problem can be formulated as follows: since the State
is the concrete form of a productive world and since the intellectuals
are the social element from which the governing personnel is
drawn, the intellectual who is not firmly anchored to a strong
economic group will tend to present the State as an absolute; in
this way the function of the intellectuals is itself conceived of as
absolute and pre-eminent, and their historical existence and dignity
are abstractly rationalised. This motive is fundamental for an
historical understanding of modern philosophical idealism, and is
connected with the mode of formation of the modern States of
continental Europe as "reaction — national transcendence" of the
French Revolution (a motive which is essential for understanding
the concepts of "passive revolution" and "revolution/restoration",
and for grasping the importance of the Hegelian comparison
between the principles of Jacobinism and classical German philo-
sophy). The observation can be made that certain traditional criteria
for historical and cultural evaluation of the Risorgimento period
must be modified, and in some cases inverted: 1. the Italian currents
which are "branded" for their French rationalism and abstract
illuminism are perhaps those which in fact most closely adhere to
Italian reality, in so far as in reality they conceive of the State as
the concrete form of an Italian economic development in progress;
a similar content requires a similar political form; 2. the real
"Jacobins" (in the pejorative sense which the term has taken on for
certain historiographical currents) are the currents which appear
most indigenous in that they seem to develop an Italian tradition. 11 8
But in reality this current is "Italian" only because culture for
many centuries was the only Italian "national" manifestation; this
is simply a verbal illusion. Where was the basis for this Italian
culture? It was not in Italy; this "Italian" culture is the continua-
tion of the mediaeval cosmopolitanism linked to the tradition of the
Empire and the Church. Universal concepts with "geographical"
seats in Italy. The Italian intellectuals were functionally a cosmo-

118 These currents are, on the surface of it, the republicans, Mazzinians, etc.
(influenced by the ideas of the French Revolution) on the one hand, and the
Moderates on the other. However, it is hard not to read into this an indirect
comment on the contemporary socialist/communist Left and nationalist/fascist
Right respectively. See too 'The Political Party", pp. 147-57.

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politan cultural concentration; they absorbed and developed
theoretically the reflections of the most solid and indigenous
contemporary Italian life. This function can be seen in Machiavelli
too, though Machiavelli attempted to turn it to national ends
(without success and without any appreciable result). The Prince,
in fact, was a development of Spanish, French and English experi-
ence during the travail of national unification — which in Italy did
not command sufficient forces, or even arouse much interest. Since
the representatives of the traditional current really wish to apply to
Italy intellectual and rational schemas, worked out in Italy it is
true, but on the basis of anachronistic experiences rather than
immediate national needs, it is they who are the Jacobins in the
pejorative sense . . . [1932]

THE HISTORY OF EUROPE SEEN AS "PASSIVE REVOLUTION"

Is it possible to write a history of Europe in the nineteenth century
without an organic treatment of the French Revolution and the
Napoleonic Wars ? And is it possible to write a history of Italy in
modern times without the struggles of the Risorgimento ? In both
cases Croce, for extrinsic and tendentious reasons, excludes the
moment of struggle in which the structure is formed and modified,
and placidly takes as history the moment of cultural or ethical-
political expansion. Does the conception of the "passive revolution"
have a "present" significance? Are we in a period of "restoration-
revolution" to be permanently consolidated, to be organised
ideologically, to be exalted lyrically? Does Italy have the same
relation vis-d-vis the USSR that the Germany (and Europe) of Kant
and Hegel had vis-d-vis the France of Robespierre and Napoleon?

Paradigms of ethical-political history. The History of Europe in the
Nineteenth Century seems to be the work of ethical-political history
destined to become the paradigm of Crocean historiography offered
to European culture. However, his other studies must be taken into
account too: History of the Kingdom of Naples; History of Italy from
1 87 1 to igi5\ The Neapolitan Revolution of ij gg; and History of the
Baroque Era in Italy. The most tendentious and revealing, however,
are the History of Europe and the History of Italy. With respect to
these two works, the questions at once arise: is it possible to write
(conceive of) a history of Europe in the nineteenth century without
an organic treatment of the French Revolution and the Napoleonic
Wars? And is it possible to write a history of Italy in modern times
without a treatment of the struggles of the Risorgimento ? In other

NOTES ON ITALIAN HISTORY

"9

words: is it fortuitous, or is it for a tendentious motive, that Croce
begins his narratives from 1815 and 18 71 ? I.e. that he excludes the
moment of struggle; the moment in which the conflicting forces are
formed, are assembled and take up their positions; the moment in
which one ethical-political system dissolves and another is formed
by fire and by steel; the moment in which one system of social
relations disintegrates and falls and another arises and asserts itself?
Is it fortuitous or not that he placidly takes as history the moment
of cultural or ethical-political expansion ? One can say, therefore,
that the book on the History of Europe is nothing but a fragment of
history, the "passive" aspect of the great revolution which started
in France in 1 789 and which spilled over into the rest of Europe
with the republican and Napoleonic armies — giving the old regimes
a powerful shove, and resulting not in their immediate collapse as
in France but in the "reformist" corrosion of them which lasted up
to 1870.

The problem arises of whether this Crocean construction, in its
tendentious nature, does not have a contemporary and immediate
reference. Whether it does not aim to create an ideological move-
ment corresponding to that of the period with which Croce is
dealing, i.e. the period of restoration-revolution, in which the
demands which in France found a Jacobin-Napoleonic expression
were satisfied by small doses, legally, in a reformist manner — in
such a way that it was possible to preserve the political and economic
position of the old feudal classes, to avoid agrarian reform, and,
especially, to avoid the popular masses going through a period of
political experience such as occurred in France in the years of
Jacobinism, in 1831, and in 1848. But, in present conditions, is it
not precisely the fascist movement which in fact corresponds to the
movement of moderate and conservative liberalism in the last
century ?

Perhaps it is not without significance that, in the first years of its
development, fascism claimed a continuity with the tradition of
the old "historic" Right. It might be one of the numerous para-
doxical aspects of history (a ruse of nature, to put it in Vico's
language) that Croce, with his own particular preoccupations,
should in effect have contributed to a reinforcement of fascism —
furnishing it indirectly with an intellectual justification, after having
contributed to purging it of various secondary characteristics, of a
superficially romantic type but nevertheless irritating to his classical
serenity modelled on Goethe. The ideological hypothesis could be
presented in the following terms : that there is a passive revolution

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involved in the fact that — through the legislative intervention of the
State, and by means of the corporative organisation — relatively
far-reaching modifications are being introduced into the country's
economic structure in order to accentuate the "plan of production"
element; in other words, that socialisation and co-operation in the
sphere of production are being increased, without however touching
(or at least not going beyond the regulation and control of) indi-
vidual and group appropriation of profit. In the concrete frame-
work of Italian social relations, this could be the only solution
whereby to develop the productive forces of industry under the
direction of the traditional ruling classes, in competition with the
more advanced industrial formations of countries which monopo-
lise raw materials and have accumulated massive capital sums.

Whether or not such a schema could be put into practice, and to
what extent, is only of relative importance. What is important from
the political and ideological point of view is that it is capable of
creating — and indeed does create — a period of expectation and
hope, especially in certain Italian social groups such as the great
mass of urban and rural petit bourgeois. It thus reinforces the
hegemonic system and the forces of military and civil coercion at
the disposal of the traditional ruling classes.

This ideology thus serves as an element of a "war of position" in
the international economic field (free competition and free exchange
here corresponding to the war of movement), just as "passive
revolution" does in the political field. In Europe from 1789 to 1870
there was a (political) war of movement in the French Revolution
and a long war of position from 1815 to 1870. In the present epoch,
the war of movement took place politically from March igi7 to
March 1921; this was followed by a war of position whose repre-
sentative — both practical (for Italy) and ideological (for Europe) —
is fascism. [1935]

II

NOTES ON POLITICS

I

THE MODERN PRINCE

INTRODUCTION

The concept of "Jacobinism" is perhaps that which establishes most
clearly and most succinctly the unifying thread which links all of
Gramsci's prison writing on history and on politics. Machiavelli
was a "precocious Jacobin"; Mazzini and his followers failed to be
the "Jacobins!' of the Risorgimento; the "Modern Prince" — i.e.
the communist party — must organise and express a national-
popular collective will, in other words, must be a "Jacobin" force,
binding the peasants beneath the hegemony of the proletariat, and
rejecting all forms of economism, syndicalism, spontaneism. What
has characterised Italian history hitherto is the fact that "an
effective Jacobin force was always missing". Now the question is
posed of whether the urban proletariat has "attained an adequate
development in the field of industrial production and a certain
level of historico-political culture". Its historical task can only be
accomplished if "the great mass of peasant farmers bursts simul-
taneously into political life". The writings on the communist party
grouped in this section aim to define what type of party could play
the role of the "Modern Prince".

In an earlier version of the passage here entitled "The Political
Party", Gramsci gave what he wrote the heading "Marx and
Machiavelli", and began: "This theme can be developed in a
two-fold study: a study of the real relations between the two as
theorists of militant politics, of action; and a book which would
derive from Marxist doctrines an articulated system of contem-
porary politics of the 'Prince' type. The theme would be the political
party, in its relations with the classes and the State: not the party
as a sociological category, but the party which seeks to found the
State." Why did Gramsci attach such importance to Machiavelli?
Because "Machiavelli was the representative in Italy of the recog-
nition that the Renaissance could not be a real one without the
foundation of a national State"; "Machiavelli's political thought
was a reaction to the Renaissance [in the narrow sense] ; it was an
invocation of the political and national necessity of drawing closer
to the people as the absolute monarchies of France and Spain had
done . . ." Machiavelli did not merely abstractly desire the national
unification of Italy; he had a programme, and it was one which
revealed his "precocious Jacobinism". He intended through the

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institution of a citizen militia to bring the great mass of peasant
farmers into political life. For Gramsci, he was not simply a precursor
of the '-historical" Jacobins, but a precursor of the "modern"
Jacobins — i.e. the communists — in their task of forging the worker-
peasant alliance. In his identification of the communists with
Jacobinism, Gramsci was developing and expanding a theme
already touched on by Lenin — who wrote in July 1917 that
" 'Jacobinism' in Europe or on the boundary line between Europe
and Asia in the twentieth century would be the rule of the revolu-
tionary class, of the proletariat, which, supported by the peasant
poor and taking advantage of the existing material basis for
advancing to socialism, could not only provide all the great,
ineradicable, unforgettable things provided by the Jacobins in the
eighteenth century, but bring about a lasting world-wide victory
for the working people".

The notes grouped in this section approach the problem of the
"The Modern Prince" from many angles; they analyse the nature of
a political party as such; the relations between party, class and
State; the ideological dangers of economism and spontaneism,
against which it must struggle; the type of non-bureaucratic
internal regime which is necessary if it is to be effective. But if
there is one passage which perhaps more than any other en-
capsulates Gramsci's conception of the revolutionary party, it is
the opening sentences of the section entitled "Prediction and Per-
spective" in which he evokes Machiavelli's Centaur as a symbol
of the "dual perspective" which must characterise the revolutionary
party (and State). The party must hold together in a dialectical
unity the two levels "of force and of consent, authority and
hegemony, violence and civilisation, of agitation and of propaganda,
of tactics and of strategy". Perhaps one can see here an attempt to
theorise the struggle Gramsci had conducted in the PCI against
Bordiga on the one hand and Tasca on the other. Bordiga in this
schema would represent an undialectical isolation of the moment of
force, domination, etc., Tasca a parallel isolation of the moment of
consent, hegemony; the short-term and the long-term perspective
respectively, mechanically and incorrectly divorced from the other.
Gramsci sought to theorise the unity of the two perspectives.

THE MODERN PRINCE

BRIEF NOTES ON MACHIAVELLl'S POLITICS

The basic thing about The Prince is that it is not a systematic treat-
ment, but a "live" work, in which political ideology and political
science are fused in the dramatic form of a "myth". Before Mach-
iavelli, political science had taken the form either of the Utopia
or of the scholarly treatise. Machiavelli, combining the two, gave
imaginative and artistic form to his conception by embodying the
doctrinal, rational element in the person of a condottiere, 1 who
represents plastically and "anthropomorphically" the symbol of the
"collective will". In order to represent the process whereby a given
collective will, directed towards a given political objective, is
formed, Machiavelli did not have recourse to long-winded argu-
ments, or pedantic classifications of principles and criteria for a
method of action. Instead he represented this process in terms of the
qualities, characteristics, duties and requirements of a concrete
individual. Such a procedure stimulates the artistic imagination of
those who have to be convinced, and gives political passions a
more concrete form.*

Machiavelli's Prince could be studied as an historical exemplifica-

1 See note 21 on p. 64.

* One will have to look through the political writers who preceded Machiavelli,
to see whether there had been other examples of such personification before The
Prince. The "mythical" character of the book to which I have referred is due also
to its conclusion; having described the ideal condottiere, Machiavelli here, in a
passage of great artistic effect, invokes the real condottiere who is to incarnate
him historically. 2 This passionate invocation reflects back on the entire book,
and is precisely what gives it its dramatic character. L. Russo, in his Prolegomeni, 3
calls Machiavelli the artist of politics, and once even uses the word "myth", but
not exactly in the sense just indicated.

2 i.e. Lorenzo de' Medici, to whom "The Prince" is addressed, and who is
invited in the famous last chapter of the work to "make Petrarch's words come
true : 'Virtu contro a furore prendera l'arme; e fia el combatter corto, che l'antico
valore nell'italici cor non e ancor morto.' [Virtue will take up arms against fury ;
and may the fight be brief, since the ancient valour is not yet dead in Italian
hearts]".

8 Luigi Russo: Prolegomeni a Machiavelli, included in Ritratti e disegni storici,
Bari 1937. We have not been able to trace the original place and date of publica-
tion. In another note (NM. p. 141) Gramsci writes: "Russo, in his Prolegomeni,
makes The Prince into Machiavelli's treatise on dictatorship (moment of authority
and of the individual), and The Discourses into his treatise on hegemony (moment
of the universal and of liberty). Russo's observation is correct, although there are
allusions to the moment of hegemony or consent in The Prince too, b eside those to
authority or force. Similarly, the observation is correct that there is no opposition
in principle between Principato [see note 51 on p.249] and republic; what is involved
is rather the hypostasis of the two moments of authority and of universality."
See "Prediction and Perspective" on pp. 169-173.

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tion of the Sorelian myth 4 — i.e. of a political ideology expressed
neither in the form of a cold Utopia nor as learned theorising, but
rather by a creation of concrete phantasy which acts on a dispersed
and shattered people to arouse and organise its collective will. The
Utopian character of The Prince lies in the fact that the Prince had
no real historical existence; he did not present himself immediately
and objectively to the Italian people, but was a pure theoretical
abstraction — a symbol of the leader and ideal condottiere. However,
in a dramatic movement of great effect, the elements of passion
and of myth which occur throughout the book are drawn together
and brought to life in the conclusion, in the invocation of a prince
who "really exists". Throughout the book, Machiavelli discusses
what the Prince must be like if he is to lead a people to found a
new State; the argument is developed with rigorous logic, and with
scientific detachment. In the conclusion, Machiavelli merges with
the people, becomes the people; not, however, some "generic"
people, but the people whom he, Machiavelli, has convinced by the
preceding argument — the people whose consciousness and whose
expression he becomes and feels himself to be, with whom he feels
identified. The entire "logical" argument now appears as nothing
other than auto-reflection on the part of the people — an inner

* Georges Sorel (i 84.7—1 922) was the principal theorist of revolutionary
syndicalism, and the author notably of Reflections on Violence (1906). Influenced
above all by Bergson and Marx, he in his turn had an immense influence in France
and Italy — e.g. on Mussolini. His work was an amalgam of extremely disparate
elements, reflecting the metamorphoses through which he passed — anti-Jacobin
moralist, socialist, revolutionary syndicalist, far-right (indeed near-monarchist)
preacher of an anti-bourgeois authoritarian moral regeneration, sympathiser with
the Bolshevik revolution. In Reflections on Violence, Sorel develops the idea of the
General Strike as a myth indeed "the myth in which Socialism is wholly com-
prised, i.e. a body of images capable of evoking instinctively all the sentiments
which correspond to the different manifestations of the war undertaken by
Socialism against modem society". Myths "enclose within them all the strongest
inclinations of a people, of a party, or of a class". He contrasts myth in this sense
with Utopias "which present a deceptive mirage of the future to the people".
(Another example of myth was Mazzini's "mad chimera", which "did more for
Italian unity than Cavour and all the politicians of his school"). The idea of
the General Strike "destroys all the theoretical consequences of every possible
social policy; its partisans look upon even the most popular reforms as having a
middle-class character; so far as they are concerned, nothing can weaken the
fundamental opposition of the class war." The General Strike thus focuses the
"cleavage" between the antagonistic classes, by making every individual outburst
of violence into an act in the class war. "Cleavage", for Sorel, is the equivalent of
class consciousness, of the class for-itself; e.g. "When the governing classes, no
longer daring to govern, are ashamed of their privileged situation, are eager to
make advances to their enemies, and proclaim their horror of ail cleavage in
society, it becomes much more difficult to maintain in the minds of the proletariat
this idea of cleavage without which Socialism cannot fulfil its historical role ."
Reflections on Violence, Collier Books, 1950, pp. 124-26, J 33-35, 186.

THE MODERN PRINCE

127

reasoning worked out in the popular consciousness, whose con-
clusion is a cry of passionate urgency. The passion, from discussion
of itself, becomes once again "emotion", fever, fanatical desire for
action. This is why the epilogue of The Prince is not something
extrinsic, tacked on, rhetorical, but has to be understood as a
necessary element of the work — indeed as the element which gives
the entire work its true colour, and makes it a kind of "political
manifesto".

A study might be made of how it came about that Sorel never
advanced from his conception of ideology-as-myth to an under-
standing of the political party, but stopped short at the idea of the
trade union. It is true that for Sorel the "myth" found its fullest
expression not in the trade union as organisation of a collective
will, but in its practical action — sign of a collective will already
operative. The highest achievement of this practical action was to
have been the general strike — i.e. a "passive activity", so to speak,
of a negative and preliminary kind (it could only be given a positive
character by the realisation of a common accord between the
various wills involved), an activity which does not envisage an
"active and constructive" phase of its own. Hence in Sorel there
was a conflict of two necessities: that of the myth, and that of the
critique of the myth — in that "every pre-established plan is Utopian
and reactionary". The outcome was left to the intervention of the
irrational, to chance (in the Bergsonian sense of "elan vital") 5 or to
"spontaneity".*

6 For Henri Bergson's key concept of "elan vital" or "vital impulse", see notably
the final section of chapter I of his Creative Evolution. In contrast to "mech-
anistic" theories, which "show us the gradual building-up of the machine under
the influence of external circumstances", and to "finalist" theories, which say
that "the parts have been brought together on a preconceived plan with a view to
a certain end", Bergson suggests that there is ' an original impetus of life", life
being defined as "a tendency to act on inert matter". The implications of this
theory were an extreme voluntarism: "Before the evolution of life . . . the portals
of the future remain wide open. It is a creation that goes on for ever in virtue of
an initial movement." Also an emphasis on chance: "The direction of this action
[i.e. action on inert matter] is not predetermined; hence the unforeseeable variety
of forms which life, in evolving, sows along its path." Creative Evolution, London
1954-

* At this point an implicit contradiction should be noted between on the one
hand the manner in which Croce poses his problem of history and anti-history, 8
and on the other hand certain of Croce's other modes of thought: his aversion to
"political parties" and the way in which he poses the question of the "predict-
ability" of social facts (see Conversazioni critiche, First series, pp. 150-52, review of
Ludovico Limentani's book La previsione dei fatti sociali, Turin, Bocca, 1907). If
social facts cannot be predicted, and the very concept of prediction is meaningless,
then the irrational cannot but be dominant, and any organisation of men must
be anti-historical a "prejudice". The only thing left to do is to resolve each

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Can a myth, however, be "non-constructive"? How could an
instrument conceivably be effective if, as in Sorel's vision of things,
it leaves the collective will in the primitive and elementary phase
of its mere formation, by differentiation ("cleavage") — even when
this differentiation is violent, that is to say destroys existing moral
and juridical relations ? Will not that collective will, with so rudi-
mentary a formation, at once cease to exist, scattering into an
infinity of individual wills which in the positive phase then follow

individual, practical problem posed by the movement of history as it comes up,
and with extemporaneous criteria ; opportunism is the only possible political line.
(See Croce's article II partite come giudizio e come pregiudizio, in Cullura e vita morale) .

* For Croce's concept of history and "anti-history", see General Introduction;
"Problems of Philosophy and History" below; and note 19 on p. 137. For his
"aversion to political parties", see "Politics as an autonomous science", pp. 136 143
below. Gramsci's view was, in fact, that Croce precisely himself fulfilled the
function of a "political party" (see especially Alcuni temi; and note 39 on p. 150),
organising the "leadership" or hegemony of the bourgeoisie at the same time as
fascism provided a transitional form of its "domination". Croce in fact supported
fascism initially, and continued to do so in the Senate even after Matteotti's
murder in 1924 in fact until the banning of the Aventine opposition in 1925.
Thereafter he maintained a critical position vis-a-vis fascism, but not of a kind to
prevent his continuing to live and publish in Italy. At the level of political theory,
his essential activity was directed against "the philosophy of praxis", and he
contributed in Gramsci's view whatever his subjective intentions — to the re-
inforcement of fascism; see for this "The History of Europe seen as 'Passive
Revolution' " on pp. 1 18 120 above. Also Leitere dal Carcere pp. 63 1-33 : "I think
you exaggerate Croce's present position, and see him as more isolated than he
really is . . . Croce has published a considerable proportion of his present views
in the review Politico, edited by Coppola and Rocco, the Minister [of Justice];
and in my view not just Coppola but many others too are convinced of the use-
fulness of the position taken up by Croce, which creates a situation in which it
becomes possible to give the new ruling groups which have emerged since the
war a real education for public life. If you study all Italian history since 1815,
you will see that a small ruling group has succeeded in methodically absorbing
into its own ambit the entire political personnel thrown up by the various, originally
subversive, mass movements. From i860 to 1876 the Mazzinian and Garibaldine
Action Party was absorbed by the Monarchy, leaving only an insignificant residue
which lived on as the Republican Party, but whose significance was more folk-
loristic than historico-political. The phenomenon was called 'transformism', but
it was not an isolated phenomenon; it was an organic process which, in the
formation of the ruling class, replaced what in France had happened in the
Revolution and under Napoleon, and in England under Cromwell. Indeed, even
after 1876 the process continued, molecularly. It assumed massive proportions
after the War, when the traditional ruling group appeared no longer capable of
assimilating and digesting the new forces thrown up by events. But this ruling
group is more 'malin' and capable than one could have imagined : the absorption
is difficult and laborious, but takes place nonetheless, by a host of different ways
and means. Croce's activity is one of these ways and means ; indeed, his teaching
produces perhaps the greatest quantity of 'gastric juices' to assist the process of
digestion. Set in its historical context, the context of Italian history, Croce's
work appears to be the most powerful mechanism for 'conforming' the new forces
to its vital interests (not simply its immediate interests, but its future ones as
well) that the dominant group today possesses, and I think that the latter has a
proper appreciation of his utility, superficial appearances notwithstanding".

THE MODERN PRINCE

129

separate and conflicting paths? Quite apart from the lact that
destruction and negation cannot exist without an implicit construc-
tion and affirmation — this not in a "metaphysical" sense but in
practice, i.e. politically, as party programme. In Sorel's case it is
clear that behind the spontaneity there lies a purely mechanistic
assumption, behind the liberty (will — life-force) a maximum of
determinism, behind the idealism an absolute materialism.

The modern prince, the myth-prince, cannot be a real person,
a concrete individual. It can only be an organism, a complex element
of society in which a collective will, which has already been recog-
nised and has to some extent asserted itself in action, begins to take
concrete form. History has already provided this organism, and it
is the political party — the first cell in which there come together
germs of a collective will tending to become universal and total.
In the modern world, only those historico-political actions which
are immediate and imminent, characterised by the necessity for
lightning speed, can be incarnated mythically by a concrete
individual. Such speed can only be made necessary by a great
and imminent danger, a great danger which precisely fans passion
and fanaticism suddenly to a white heat, and annihilates the critical
sense and the corrosive irony which are able to destroy the "charis-
matic" character of the condottiere (as happened in the Boulanger
adventure). 7 But an improvised action of such a kind, by its very
nature, cannot have a long-term and organic character. It will in
almost all cases be appropriate to restoration and reorganisation,
but not to the founding of new States or new national and social
structures (as was at issue in Machiavelli's Prince, in which the
theme of restoration was merely a rhetorical element, linked to the
literary concept of an Italy descended from Rome and destined to
restore the order and the power of Rome).* It will be defensive

7 General Boulanger (1837 91) was French Minister of War in 1886. He
symbolised the idea of revanche (against Germany after the Franco-Prussian War of
1870-71) in the popular consciousness. The government became afraid of his
popularity, and of his tractations with monarchist forces. They dismissed him,
and posted him to Clermont-Ferrand. He founded a Boulangist party, which
called for a new Constituent Assembly, a military regeneration of the nation, and
reform of "the abuses of parliamentarism". Elected with a huge majority to the
National Assembly, he appeared likely to attempt a coup — which could well have
succeeded — but in fact hesitated, and subsequently fled the country fearing
imminent arrest (1889).

* It is true that Machiavelli was inspired to his political conception of the
necessity for a unitary Italian State not only by the example and model of the
great absolute monarchies of France and Spain, but also by the remembrance of
Rome's past. However, it should be emphasised that this is no reason for confusing
Machiavelli with the literary-rhetorical tradition. For this element is neither

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rather than capable of original creation. Its underlying assumption
will be that a collective will, already in existence, has become
nerveless and dispersed, has suffered a collapse which is dangerous
and threatening but not definitive and catastrophic, and that it is
necessary to reconcentrate and reinforce it — rather than that a new
collective will must be created from scratch, to be directed towards
goals which are concrete and rational, but whose concreteness and
rationality have not yet been put to the critical test by a real and
universally known historical experience.

The abstract character of the Sorelian conception of the myth is
manifest in its aversion (which takes the emotional form of an
ethical repugnance) for the Jacobins, who were certainly a "cate-
gorical embodiment" of Machiavelli's Prince. 8 The Modern Prince
must have a part devoted to Jacobinism (in the integral sense which
this notion has had historically, and must have conceptually), as
an exemplification of the concrete formation and operation of a
collective will which at least in some aspects was an original, ex
novo creation. And a definition must be given of collective will, and
of political will in general, in the modern sense : will as operative
awareness of historical necessity, as protagonist of a real and effective
historical drama.

One of the first sections must precisely be devoted to the "collective
will", posing the question in the following terms: "When can the
conditions for awakening and developing a national-popular
collective will be said to exist?" 9 Hence an historical (economic)
analysis of the social structure of the given country and a "dramatic"
representation of the attempts made in the course of the centuries
to awaken this will, together with the reasons for the successive
failures. Why was there no absolute monarchy in Italy in Machia-
velli's time? One has to go back to the Roman Empire (the language
question, problem of the intellectuals, etc.), and understand the

exclusive nor even predominant, nor is the necessity for a great national State
argued from it; moreover, this very allusion to Rome is less abstract than it may
seem, when it is set in its correct context of the intellectual climate of Humanism
and Renaissance. In Book VII of the Art of War one finds: "This province (Italy)
seems born to bring dead things back to life, as we have seen occur with poetry,
with painting and with sculpture" why then should it not rediscover military
skill too ? etc. One would have to collect together all the other references of this
kind in order to establish their exact character.

8 For Gramsci's conception of the relation between Machiavelli, Jacobinism
and the Communist Party, see introductions to "Notes on Italian History" and
to this section (pp. 44 47 and 123-4). See too "Material for a critical essay on
Croce's two Histories , on pp. 114 118 above. On Ris. p. 155 Gramsci defines
"historical Jacobinism" as ' union of city and countryside".

' For the concept of national popular, see note 65 on p. 421.

THE MODERN PRINCE

function of the mediaeval Communes, the significance of Catholicism
etc. 10 In short, one has to make an outline of the whole history of
Italy — in synthesis, but accurate.

The reason for the failures of the successive attempts to create a
national-popular collective will is to be sought in the existence of
certain specific social groups which were formed at the dissolution
of the Communal bourgeoisie; in the particular character of other
groups which reflect the international function of Italy as seat of
the Church and depositary of the Holy Roman Empire; and so on.
This function and the position which results from it have brought
about an internal situation which may be called "economic-
corporate" 11 — politically, the worst of all forms of feudal society,
the least progressive and the most stagnant. An effective Jacobin
force was always missing, and could not be constituted; and it was
precisely such a Jacobin force which in other nations awakened and
organised the national-popular collective will, and founded the
modem States. Do the necessary conditions for this will finally
exist, or rather what is the present relation between these conditions
and the forces opposed to them? Traditionally the forces of opposi-
tion have been the landed aristocracy and, more generally, landed
property as a whole. Italy's particular characteristic is a special
"rural bourgeoisie" ', 12 a legacy of parasitism bequeathed to modern
times by the disintegration as a class of the Communal bourgeoisie
(the hundred cities, the cities of silence). 13 The positive conditions

10 For Gramsci's discussion of the "language question", see Int. pp. 21-25, etc.
In the Middle Ages, the Catholic Church fought against the use of the vernacular
and for the preservation of Latin as the "universal" language, since this was a
key element in its own intellectual hegemony. Dante, for example, felt compelled
to defend his use of (Florentine) Italian in the Divine Comedy. Gramsci describes
the emergence of Florentine dialect as a "noble vernacular". "The flowering of
the Communes developed the vernaculars, and the intellectual hegemony of
Florence produced a united vernacular, a noble vernacular. . . . The fall of the
Communes and the advent of the Princely regime, the creation of a governing
caste detached from the people, crystallised this vernacular in the same way as
literary Latin had become crystallised. Italian was once again a written and not
a spoken language, a language of scholars rather than a language of the nation"
The language question was simplified at one level in the nineteenth century,
when literary Italian finally defeated Latin as the language of learning, and when
it was adopted as the language of the new Italian national state. But it persists
in the existence of dialects as the "mother-tongue" in many Italian regions even
today, despite the development of the mass media and universal education in this
century.

For the Communes, see note 4 on p. 53.

11 For the concept of economic-corporate, see note 4 on p. 53, and also
Notes on Gramsci's Terminology, p. xiii.

11 On the "rural bourgeoisie", see note 61 on p. 91, and "Subversive",
pp. 272-5 below.

15 See notes 61 and 62 on p. 91.

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are to be sought in the existence of urban social groups which have
attained an adequate development in the field of industrial produc-
tion and a certain level of historico-political culture. Any formation
of a national-popular collective will is impossible, unless the great
mass of peasant farmers bursts simultaneously into political life. That
was Machiavelli's intention through the reform of the militia, and
it was achieved by the Jacobins in the French Revolution. That
Machiavelli understood it reveals a precocious Jacobinism that is the
(more or less fertile) germ of his conception of national revolution.
All history from 1815 onwards shows the efforts of the traditional
classes to prevent the formation of a collective will of this kind, and
to maintain "economic-corporate" power in an international system
of passive equilibrium.

An important part of The Modern Prince will have to be devoted
to the question of intellectual and moral reform, that is to the
question of religion or world-view. In this field too we find in the
existing tradition an absence of Jacobinism and fear of Jacobinism
(the latest philosophical expression of such fear is B. Croce's
Malthusian attitude towards religion). 14 The modern Prince must

14 Gramsci alludes to Malthus here, as he usually does, simply to indicate fear
of, or contempt for, the masses. On MS, pp. 224. 29 he discusses Croce's attitude
to religion, and the character of the "reformation" which he represents. Gramsci
criticises Croce for not understanding that "the philosophy of praxis, with its vast
mass movement, has represented and does represent an historical process similar
to the Reformation, in contrast with liberalism, which reproduces a Renaissance
which is narrowly limited to restricted intellectual groups. . . . Croce is essentially
anti-confessional (we cannot call him anti-religious given his definition of religious
reality) and for numerous Italian and European intellectuals his philosophy . . .
has been a genuine intellectual and moral reform similar to the Renaissance . . .
But Croce did not 'go to the people', did not wish to become a 'national' element
(just as the men of the Renaissance unlike the Lutherans and Calvinists were
not 'national' elements) , did not wish to create a band of disciples who . . . could
have popularised his philosophy and tried to make it into an educative element,
starting in the primary school (and hence educative for the simple worker or
peasant, i.e. for the simple man of the people). Perhaps this was impossible, but
it was worth trying and the fact that it was not tried is certainly significant."
Gramsci goes on to criticise Croce's view that religion is appropriate for the
masses, while only an elite of superior intellects are capable of a rational conception
of the world. Croce was minister of education in Giolitti's 1920-21 government,
and introduced a draft bill to reorganise the national educational system; this
bill provided for the reintroduction of religious instruction in the primary schools

something which had not existed since the 1859 Casati Act laid the basis for
the educational system of post-Risorgimento Italy. In fact, Giolitti withdrew the
bill, but the main lines of it were taken up by Gentile when, as minister of education
in the first Fascist government of 1922, he drew up the Gentile Act, which was
passed in 1923. (See note 15 on p. 41.)

For the concept of "intellectual and moral reform" (taken from Renan), see
"Philosophy of Praxis and Modern Culture" on pp. 388 99. It should be noted
that the Italian word "riforma" translates both "reform" and "reformation" in
English.

THE MODERN PRINCE

133

be and cannot but be the proclaimer and organiser of an intellectual
and moral reform, which also means creating the terrain for a
subsequent development of the national-popular collective will to-
wards the realisation of a superior, total form of modern civilisation.

These two basic points — the formation of a national-popular
collective will, of which the modern Prince is at one and the same
time the organiser and the active, operative expression; and
intellectual and moral reform — should structure the entire work.
The concrete, programmatic points must be incorporated in the
first part, that is they should result from the line of discussion
"dramatically", and not be a cold and pedantic exposition of argu-
ments.

Can there be cultural reform, and can the position of the depressed
strata of society be improved culturally, without a previous economic
reform and a change in their position in the social and economic
fields? Intellectual and moral reform has to be linked with a
programme of economic reform — indeed the programme of economic
reform is precisely the concrete form in which every intellectual
and moral reform presents itself. The modern Prince, as it develops,
revolutionises the whole system of intellectual and moral relations,
in that its development means precisely that any given act is seen
as useful or harmful, as virtuous or as wicked, only in so far as it
has as its point of reference the modern Prince itself, and helps to
strengthen or to oppose it. In men's consciences, the Prince takes
the place of the divinity or the categorical imperative, and becomes
the basis for a modern laicism and for a complete laicisation of all
aspects of life and of all customary relationships. [1933-34: 1st
version 1931-32.]

MACHIAVELLI AND MARX

The basic innovation introduced by the philosophy of praxis into
the science of politics and of history is the demonstration that there
is no abstract "human nature", fixed and immutable (a concept
which certainly derives from religious and transcendentalist
thought), but that human nature is the totality of historically
determined social relations, hence an historical fact which can,
within certain limits, be ascertained with the methods of philology
and criticism. Consequently political science, as far as both its
concrete content and its logical formulation are concerned, must

16 This note was given no title in its final version translated here, so we have
given it the title used by Gramsci for the first version.

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be seen as a developing organism. It must, however, be noted that
the way in which Machiavelli posed the problem of politics (i.e.
the assertion implicit in his writings that politics is an autonomous
activity, with its own principles and laws distinct from those of
morality and religion — a proposition with far-reaching philosophical
consequences, since it implicitly introduces a new conception of
morality and religion, a new world-view) is still questioned and
rejected even today, and has not succeeded in becoming "common
sense". What does that mean ? Does it mean only that the intellectual
and moral revolution whose elements are to be found embryonically
in Machiavelli's thought has not yet taken place, has not become
the public and manifest form of the national culture ? Or does it
simply have a current political significance; does it serve to indicate
the gulf which exists between rulers and ruled, to indicate that
there exist two cultures — that of the rulers and that of the ruled —
and that the ruling class like the Church has its own attitude
towards the common people, dictated by the necessity on the one
hand of not becoming detached from them, and on the other of
keeping them convinced that Machiavelli is nothing other than the
devil incarnate?

Here one comes up against the problem of Machiavelli's signific-
ance in his own time, and of the objectives he set himself in writing
his books, particularly The Prince. Machiavelli's ideas were not, in
his own day, purely "bookish", the monopoly of isolated thinkers,
a secret memorandum circulating among the initiated. Machiavelli's
style is not that of a systematic compiler of treatises, such as abounded
during the Middle Ages and Humanism, quite the contrary; it
is the style of a man of action, of a man urging action, the style
of a party manifesto. The moralistic interpretation offered by
Foscolo 16 is certainly mistaken. It is quite true that Machiavelli
revealed something, and did not merely theorise reality; but what
was the aim of his revelation? A moralistic aim or a political one?
It is commonly asserted that Machiavelli's standards of political
behaviour are practised, but not admitted. Great politicians — it is

14 Foscolo wrote in his famous poem Dei Sepokri [On Tombs] : "Io quando il
mommado vidi ove posa il corpo di quel grande] che temprando lo scettro dregnatortf gli
allor ne sfronda, ed die genti svelaj di che lagrime grondi e di che sangue;" [When I saw
the monument where lies the body of that great man who, even as he strengthens
the sceptre of rulers, plucks away the laurel leaves and reveals to their peoples
the tears and blood running down it.] In other words Foscolo saw Machiavelli
as revealing the tyranny of the rulers even while he strengthened their power.
But Gramsci condemns the moralism of this reduction of Machiavelli to little
more than an encouragement to "tyrant-haters". For further discussion by
Gramsci of Foscolo's and other interpretations of Machiavelli, see NM. pp. 1 15-19.

THE MODERN PRINCE

135

said — start off by denouncing Machiavelli, by declaring themselves
to be anti-Machiavellian, precisely in order to be able to put his
standards "piously" into practice. Was not Machiavelli himself a
poor Machiavellian, one of those who "are in the know" and
foolishly give the game away, whereas vulgar Machiavellianism
teaches one to do just the opposite? Croce asserted that Machia-
vellianism was a science, serving reactionaries and democrats alike,
just as skilful swordplay serves both honest men and brigands, for
self-defence and for murder; and that this was the sense in which
Foscolo's opinion should be taken. This is true in the abstract.
Machiavelli himself remarks that what he is writing about is in
fact practised, and has always been practised, by the greatest men
throughout history. So it does not seem that he was writing for
those who are already in the know; nor is his style that of dis-
interested scientific activity; nor is it possible to think that he
arrived at his theses in the field of political science by way of
philosophical speculation — which would have been something of a
miracle in that field at the time, when even today he meets with
such hostility and opposition.

One may therefore suppose that Machiavelli had in mind "those
who are not in the know", and that it was they whom he intended
to educate politically. This was no negative political education — of
tyrant-haters — as Foscolo seems to have understood it; but a
positive education — of those who have to recognise certain means
as necessary, even if they are the means of tyrants, because they
desire certain ends. Anyone bom into the traditional governing
stratum acquires almost automatically the characteristics of the
political realist, as a result of the entire educational complex which
he absorbs from his family milieu, in which dynastic or patrimonial
interests predominate. Who therefore is "not in the know"? The
revolutionary class of the time, the Italian "people" or "nation",
the citizen democracy which gave birth to men like Savonarola
and Pier Soderini, rather than to a Castruccio or a Valentino. 17

17 Savonarola, Girolamo (1452-98). A Dominican friar who announced the
imminent castigation and reform of the Church, he gained immense popular
support, notably in Florence especially when the invasion of Charles VIII in
1 492 seemed to fulfil his predictions. He was the leader of a theocratic state in
Florence 1495 98. The Papacy tried to stop his preaching by threats of excom-
munication and bribes of a cardinal's hat, and in 1497 did in fact excommunicate
him. The Florentine Signoria, who had made use of Savonarola against the Pope,
turned against him in the course of a complex faction fight, and he was burned
at the stake. He has often been seen as a precursor of the Reformation.

Pier Soderini (1452-1522) was a Florentine politician who, as gonfaloniere of
the city from 1502-12, instituted a legal reform and supported Machiavelli's idea

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It seems clear that Machiavelli wished to persuade these forces of
the necessity of having a leader who knew what he wanted and
how to obtain it, and of accepting him with enthusiasm even if his
actions might conflict or appear to conflict with the generalised
ideology of the time — religion.

This position in which Machiavelli found himself politically is
repeated today for the philosophy of praxis. Once more there is the
necessity to be "anti-Machiavellian", to develop a theory and
technique of politics which — however strong the belief that they will
in the final resort be especially useful to the side which was "not
in the know", since that is where the historically progressive force
is to be found — might be useful to both sides in the struggle. In
actual fact, one immediate result is achieved, in that the unity
based on traditional ideology is broken; until this happens, it is
impossible for the new forces to arrive at a consciousness of their
own independent personality. Machiavellianism has helped to
improve the traditional political technique of the conservative
ruling groups, just as the politics of the philosophy of praxis does.
That should not disguise its essentially revolutionary character
which is still felt today, and which explains all anti-Machiavellianism,
from that of the Jesuits to the pietistic anti-Machiavellianism of
Pasquale Villari. 18 [1933-34: 1st version 1931—32]

POLITICS AS AN AUTONOMOUS SCIENCE

The first question that must be raised and resolved in a study of
Machiavelli is the question of politics as an autonomous science, of
the place that political science occupies or should occupy in a
systematic (coherent and logical) conception of the world, in a
philosophy of praxis.

of a militia. Machiavelli, however, had a low opinion of him, and commemorated
his death with a savage epigram: "La notte che morl Pier Soderini, L'anima
ando dell'inferno alia bocca; Ma Pluto le grido: anima sciocca! Che inferno!
vanne al limbo coi bambini!" [The night that Pier Soderini died, his soul
approached the gates of hell; but Pluto cried out: foolish spirit! not hell! off to
limbo with the children!] Duke Valentino, better known as Cesare Borgia
(1476 1517), was the son of cardinal Rodrigo Borgia, later Pope Alexander VI.
A brilliant intriguer and soldier, Machiavelli made him the hero of The Prince,
seeing him as having created in the Romagna province (around Rimini and
Ravenna) the kind of stable state upon which an Italian nation could be based,
and depicting him as the perfect condottiere. Castruccio Castracani (1 281-1328)
was also a condottiere, who ruled Lucca. Machiavelli celebrated him in his Vita
di Castruccio Castracani da Lucca.

18 Pasquale Villari (1826 1917), historian and politician, wrote books on
Savonarola and Machiavelli (Niccold Machiavelli e i suoi tempi, 1877-82). His
treatment of Machiavelli was naively and heavily moralistic.

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137

The progress brought about by Croce in this respect in the study
of Machiavelli and in political science consists mainly (as in other
fields of Croce's critical activity) in the dissolution of a series of
false, non-existent or wrongly formulated problems. 19 Croce based
himself on his distinction of the moments of the spirit, and on his
affirmation of a moment of practice, of a practical spirit, autonomous
and independent though linked in a circle to all reality by the
dialectic of distincts. In a philosophy of praxis, the distinction will
certainly not be between the moments of the absolute Spirit, but
between the levels of the superstructure. The problem will therefore
be that of establishing the dialectical position of political activity
(and of the corresponding science) as a particular level of the
superstructure. One might say, as a first schematic approximation,
that political activity is precisely the first moment or first level; the
moment in which the superstructure is still in the unmediated phase
of mere wishful affirmation, confused and still at an elementary
stage.

In what sense can one identify politics with history, and hence
all of life with politics? How then could the whole system of super-
structures be understood as distinctions within politics, and the
introduction of the concept of distinction into a philosophy of
praxis hence be justified ? But can one really speak of a dialectic of
distincts, and how is the concept of a circle joining the levels of the
superstructure to be understood? Concept of "historical bloc", i.e.
unity between nature and spirit (structure and superstructure),
unity of opposites and of distincts.

Can one introduce the criterion of distinction into the structure
too? How is structure to be understood? How, in the system of
social relations, will one be able to distinguish the element "tech-
nique", "work", "class", etc., understood in an historical and not
in a metaphysical sense ? Critique of Croce's position ; for polemical

11 Croce notably attacked any moralistic interpretation of Machiavelli (as he
did of Marx), for instance that of Villari, "for whom Machiavelli's great defect
is that he fails to see the moral problem . . . Machiavelli starts by establishing a
fact : the conditions of struggle in which society finds itself. He then gives rules in
accordance with this objective condition. Why . . . should he concern himself
with the ethics of the struggle?"

The paragraphs which follow discuss some of the more technical aspects of
Croce's philosophy. For the "dialectic of distincts" see Introduction, p. xxiii.
For Croce's concept of politics as passion, see note 35 on p. 349. The discussion of
superstructure and structure, and of "appearances", relates to Croce's speech on
"Anti history" to the Oxford Philosophical Congress in 1 930, when he attacked
what he understood as Marxism — and what Gramsci points out frequently is in
fact vulgar Marxism for reducing the "superstructure" to a mere "appearance"
(phenomenon), etc. (See MS. p. 229, etc.). For Kant's Noumenon, see pp. 367 8.

i 3 8

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ends, he represents the structure as a "hidden god", a "noumenon",
in contrast to the "appearances" of the superstructure. "Appear-
ances" both metaphorically and literally. How "historically", and
as a fact of speech, was the notion of "appearances" arrived at?

It is interesting to establish how Croce developed his own in-
dividual theory of error and of the practical origin of error from
this general conception. For Croce, error has its origin in an
immediate "passion" — one, that is, of an individual or group
character. But what will produce the "passion" of more far-
reaching historical importance, the passion as a category? The
passion/immediate interest which is the origin of error is the
moment which in the Theses on Feuerbach is called schmutzig-
jiidisch. But just as the passion/ ' schmutzig-jiidisch interest determines
immediate error, so does the passion of the larger social group
determine the philosophical error, while between the two is the
error/ideology, which Croce deals with separately. In this series:
"egoism (immediate error) — ideology — philosophy", it is the
common term "error" which is important. This is linked to the
various levels of passion, and must be understood not in a moralistic
or scholastic sense, but in the purely historical and dialectical sense
of "that which is historically decayed, and deserves to fall" — in the
sense of the non-definitive character of all philosophy, of the
"death/life", "being/non-being", i.e. of the term of the dialectic
which the latter must transcend in its forward movement.

The terms "apparent" and "appearance" mean precisely this
and nothing else, and are justifiable despite dogmatic opposition.
They are the assertion of the perishable nature of all ideological
systems, side by side with the assertion that all systems have an
historical validity, and are necessary ("Man acquires consciousness
of social relations in the field of ideology": 20 is not this an assertion
of the necessity and the validity of "appearances"?) [1933-34:
1st version 1932-33.]

Croce's conception of politics/passion excludes parties, since it is
not possible to think of an organised and permanent passion.
Permanent passion is a condition of orgasm and of spasm, which
means operational incapacity. It excludes parties, and excludes

10 The exact quotation, from Marx' Preface to The Critique of Political Econonty,
is: "a distinction should always be made between the material transformation
of the economic conditions of production, which can be determined with the
precision of natural science, and the legal, political, religious, aesthetic or philo-
sophic — in short, ideological forms in which men become conscious of this conflict
[i.e. that between the material productive forces of society and the existing
relations of production] and fight it out".

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every plan of action worked out in advance. However, parties exist
and plans of action are worked out, put into practice, and are often
successful to a remarkable extent. So there is a flaw in Croce's
conception. Nor is it enough to say that, even if parties exist, that
has little theoretical importance, because at the moment of action the
party in operation is not the same thing as the "party" which
existed previously. There may be a partial truth in this, but the
points of coincidence between the two "parties" are such that one
may really be said to be dealing with the same organism.

But for Croce's conception to be valid, it would have to be
possible to apply it also to war, and hence to explain the fact of
standing armies, military academies, officer corps. War in progress
too is "passion", the most intense and febrile of all passions; it is a
moment of political life; it is the continuation in other forms of a
given policy. It is necessary therefore to explain how passion can
become moral "duty" — duty in terms not of political morality but
of ethics.

On political plans, which are related to the parties as permanent
formations, recall what Moltke 21 said of military plans; that they
cannot be worked out and finalised in advance in every particular,
but only in so far as their nucleus and central design is concerned,
since the details of the action depend to a certain extent on the
moves of the adversary. It is precisely in the details that passion
manifests itself, but it does not appear that Moltke's principle is
such as to justify Croce's conception. There would still remain to
be explained the kind of passion of the General Staff which worked
out the plan in the light of cold reason, and "dispassionately".
[1933-34: 1 st version 1931-32.]

If the Crocean concept of passion as a moment of politics comes
up against the difficulty of explaining and justifying the permanent
political formations, such as the parties and still more the national
armies and General Staffs, since it is impossible to conceive of a
passion being organised permanently without its becoming ration-
ality and deliberate reflection and hence no longer passion, the
solution can only be found in the identification of politics and
economics. Politics becomes permanent action and gives birth to
permanent organisations precisely in so far as it identifi es itself with

a General Moltke (the younger, 1848-1916) was German Chief of Staff,
igo6-i4 and the successor of Schlieffen. His modifications of the famous "Schlieffen
Plan" for war against France were blamed for the German failure to defeat the
French decisively in 1914, and led to his removal. In feet, modern historiography
(and the unearthing of the original Schlieffen Plan) make it clear that he was a
scapegoat, sacrificed to an unmerited myth of Schlieffen's infallibility.

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economics. But it is also distinct from it, which is why one may
speak separately of economics and politics, and speak of "political
passion" as of an immediate impulse to action which is born on the
"permanent and organic" terrain of economic life but which
transcends it, bringing into play emotions and aspirations in whose
incandescent atmosphere even calculations involving the individual
human life itself obey different laws from those of individual profit,
etc. [1931-32]

Beside the merits of modern Machiavelli studies derived from
Croce, the exaggerations and distortions which they have inspired
should also be noted. The habit has been formed of considering
Machiavelli too much as the man of politics in general, as the
"scientist of politics", relevant in every period.

Machiavelli should be considered more as a necessary expression
of his time, and as closely tied to the conditions and exigencies of
his time, which were the result: 1. of the internal struggles of the
Florentine republic, and of the particular structure of the State,
which was unable to free itself from the residues of commune and
municipality — i.e. from a form of feudalism which had become a
hindrance; 2. of the struggles between the Italian states for a
balance of power throughout Italy — which was obstructed by the
existence of the Papacy and the other feudal and municipalistic
residues of forms of state based on city rather than on territory;
3. of the struggles of the Italian states, more or less united, for a
European balance of power — or, put in another way, of the con-
tradictions between the requirements of an internal balance of
power in Italy and the exigencies of the European states struggling
for hegemony.

Machiavelli is influenced by the examples of France and Spain,
which have achieved as states a strong territorial unity; he makes
an "elliptic comparison" (to use Croce's expression) and deduces
the rules for a strong State in general and a strong Italian State
in particular. Machiavelli is a man wholly of his period; his political
science represents the philosophy of the time, which tended to the
organisation of absolute national monarchies — the political form
which permitted and facilitated a further development of bourgeois
productive forces. In Machiavelli one may discover in embryonic
form both the separation of powers and parliamentarianism (the
representative regime). His "ferocity" 22 is turned against the

82 Ferocia. Machiavelli wrote: "Cesare Borgia was considered cruel: yet that
cruelty of his had restored Romagna, united it, rendered it peaceful and loyal. . . .
Thus a prince must not mind if he has a reputation for cruelty."

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141

residues of the feudal world, not against the progressive classes.
The Prince is to put an end to feudal anarchy; and that is what
Valentino does in Romagna, basing himself on the support of the
productive classes, merchants and peasants. Given the military-
dictatorial character of the head of state, such as is needed in a
period of struggle for the installation and consolidation of a new
form of power, the class references contained in the Art of War
must be taken as referring as well to the general structure of the
State: if the urban classes wish to put an end to internal disorder
and external anarchy, they must base themselves on the mass of the
peasants, and constitute a reliable and loyal armed force of a kind
totally different from the companies of fortune. 23 One may say that
the essentially political conception is so dominant in Machiavelli
that it makes him commit errors in the military field. He gives most
thought to the infantry, who can be recruited en masse through
political action, and as a result he misjudges the significance of
artillery. [1933-4: 1st version 1929-30.]

Russo (in Prolegomeni a Machiavelli) remarks correctly that the
Art of War contains The Prince within it, but he fails to draw all the
conclusions from his observation. Even in the Art of War, Machia-
velli must be seen as a man of politics who has to concern himself
with military theory. His one-sidedness (together with other
idiosyncrasies such as the phalanx theory, which give rise to facile
sallies of wit, the best-known of which originated with Bandello) 2 *
comes from the fact that the centre of his interest and of his thought
does not lie in the question of military technique, which he deals
with only in so far as it is necessary for his political edifice. More-
over, not only the Art of War but also the History of Florence must
be related to The Prince; this was precisely intended to serve as an
analysis of the real conditions in Italy and in Europe from which
the immediate demands contained in The Prince spring. [1933-4]

A secondary consequence of a conception of Machiavelli which
takes more fully into account the period in which he lived is a more

** See note 21 on p. 64.

24 Bandello (1480-1562), was the author of a popular collection of stories.
One was dedicated to Giovanni de' Medici, better known as Giovanni delle
Bande Nere, the famous condottiere. In his dedication, Bandello recalls somewhat
maliciously how one day "Messire Niccold [i.e. Machiavelli] kept us that day
over two hours in the sun while he was about setting three thousand foot-soldiers
into the order of which he had written — without ever succeeding in so ordering
them". Whereupon, at Bandello's own suggestion, Giovanni had called Machia-
velli back, and had himself drawn up the troops "in the twinkling of an eye".
See for this NM. 122 3. Machiavelli's phalanx theory was developed in his
Art of War.

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historicist evaluation of the so-called anti-Machiavellians, or at
least of the most "ingenuous" of them. They are not really so much
anti-Machiavellians as politicians who express exigencies of their
time or of conditions different from those which affected Machia-
velli; the polemical form is nothing but a contingent literary
device. The typical example it seems to me of these anti-Machia-
vellians is Jean Bodin (1530-96), who was a delegate to the Estates
General of Blois in 1576 and there persuaded the Third Estate
to refuse the subsidies requested for the civil war.*

During the civil wars in France, Bodin is the exponent of the
third party — the so-called politicians' party — which defends the
viewpoint of national interest, that is to say of an internal balance
of classes in which hegemony belongs to the Third Estate through
the monarchy. It seems evident to me that classifying Bodin among
the anti-Machiavellians is an absolutely irrelevant and superficial
question. Bodin lays the foundations of political science in France
on a terrain which is far more advanced and complex than that
which Italy offered to Machiavelli. For Bodin the question is not
that of founding the territorially united (national) State — i.e. of
going back to the time of Louis XI — but of balancing the con-
flicting social forces within this already strong and well-implanted
State. Bodin is interested in the moment of consent, not in the
moment of force. With Bodin there is a tendency to develop the
absolute monarchy: the Third Estate is so aware of its strength and
its dignity, it knows so well that the fortunes of the absolute monarchy
are linked to its own fortunes and its own development, that it
poses conditions for its loyalty, it presents demands, tends to limit
absolutism. In France Machiavelli was already at the service of
reaction, since he could serve to justify maintaining the world
perpetually in the "cradle" (in Bertrando Spaventa's expression); 25
hence it was necessary to be polemically anti-Machiavellian.

It should be noted that in the Italy studied by Machiavelli there

* Bodin's works: Methodus adfacilem historiarum cognitionem (1566), in which he
shows the influence of climate on forms of State, hints at an idea of progress, etc.;
Repuhlique ( 1 576), in which he expresses the opinions of the Third Estate on absolute
monarchy and its relations with the people ; Heptaplomeres (unpublished until the
modern era), in which he compares all religions and justifies them as different
expressions of natural religion which alone is reasonable, and as all equally
worthy of respect and tolerance.

25 Bertrando Spaventa (1817-83), a philosopher influenced by German idealism
and above all Hegel, did much to introduce the latter into Italy and was an
important precursor of Croce and Gentile. Critical of the provincialism of Italian
intellectuals, he was particularly hostile to Gioberti and Catholic thought in
general. He was a senator (of the Right) until 1876.

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existed no representative institutions already developed and sig-
nificant in national life like the Estates General in France. When
in modern times it is suggested tendentiously that parliamentary
institutions in Italy were imported from abroad, 26 it is not realised
that this fact only reflects a condition of backwardness and of
stagnation of Italian political and social history from 1500 until
1700 — a condition which was to a great extent due to the pre-
ponderance of international relations over internal ones, which
were paralysed and congealed. Is it really a national "originality",
destroyed by the importation of parliamentary forms, that the
State structure in Italy, as a result of foreign dominance, should
have remained in the semi-feudal phase of an object of foreign
suzerainty? In fact parliamentary institutions give a form to the
process of national liberation, and to the transition to a modern
(independent and national) territorial State. Moreover, represen-
tative institutions did exist, especially in the South and in Sicily,
but of a far more limited kind than in France, for the Third
Estate was little developed in these regions, and hence the Parlia-
ments were instruments for upholding the anarchy of the barons
against the innovating attempts of the monarchy, which in the
absence of a bourgeoisie had to base itself on the support of the
mob.* 27 That Machiavelli should only have been able to express
his programme and his tendency to relate city to countryside in
military terms is understandable if one reflects that French
Jacobinism would be inexplicable without the presupposition of
Physiocrat culture, with its demonstration of the economic and
social importance of the peasant proprietor. Machiavelli's economic
theories have been studied by Gino Arias (in the Annali d' Economia
of the Bocconi University in Milan), but it might be queried whether
Machiavelli really had any economic theories. One will have to
see whether Machiavelli's essentially political language can be
translated into economic terms, and to which economic system it
could be reduced. See whether Machiavelli living in the mercantilist
period was politically in advance of his time, and anticipated
certain demands which later found expression in the Physiocrats.**

t 1 933-34= 1st version 1931-32]

29 i.e. by fascist spokesmen, justifying the abolition of parliamentary institutions.

* Recall Antonio Panella's study of the anti-Machiavellians published in
Marzocco in 1927 (or even in 1926?), in eleven articles: see how Bodin is judged
in it compared with Machiavelli, and how the problem of anti-Machiavellianism
is posed in general. 27 lazzari, see note 35 on p. 71.

** Would Rousseau have been possible either, without Physiocrat culture ? It
does not seem to me correct to claim that the Physiocrats merely represented

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ELEMENTS OF POLITICS

It really must be stressed that it is precisely the first elements, the
most elementary things, which are the first to be forgotten. How-
ever, if they are repeated innumerable times, they become the
pillars of politics and of any collective action whatsoever.

The first element is that there really do exist rulers and ruled,
leaders and led. The entire science and art of politics are based on
this primordial, and (given certain general conditions) 28 irreducible
fact. The origins of this fact are a problem apart, which will have
to be studied separately (at least one could and should study how
to minimise the fact and eliminate it, by altering certain conditions
which can be identified as operating in this sense), but the fact
remains that there do exist rulers and ruled, leaders and led. Given
this fact, it will have to be considered how one can lead most
effectively (given certain ends); hence how the leaders may best
be prepared (and it is more precisely in this that the first stage of
the art and science of politics consists); and how, on the other
hand, one can know the lines of least resistance, or the most rational
lines along which to proceed if one wishes to secure the obedience
of the led or ruled. In the formation of leaders, one premiss is
fundamental: is it the intention that there should always be rulers
and ruled, or is the objective to create the conditions in which this
division is no longer necessary ? In other words, is the initial premiss
the perpetual division of the human race, or the belief that this
division is only an historical fact, corresponding to certain conditions ?
Yet it must be clearly understood that the division between rulers
and ruled — though in the last analysis it has its origin in a division
between social groups — is in fact, things being as they are, also to
be found within the group itself, even where it is a socially homo-
geneous one. In a certain sense it may be said that this division is
created by the division of labour, is merely a technical fact, and

agrarian interests, and that the interests of urban capitalism were not asserted
before classical economics. The Physiocrats represent the break with mercantilism
and with the guild system, and are a stage on the way to classical economics. But
it seems to me that precisely for that reason they represent a far more complex
future society than the one against which they are fighting, and even than the
one which immediately derives from their affirmations. Their language is too much
linked to their time, and expresses the immediate contrast between city and
countryside, but it permits an expansion of capitalism into agriculture to be
foreseen. The formula of "laissez-faire, laissez- passer", that is to say of free industry
and free enterprise, is certainly not linked to agrarian interests.

28 i.e. under the conditions of class society. For Gramsci's "first element" here,
see Hegel: Philosophy of History, Dover 1956, p. 44: "The primary consideration is,
then, the distinction between the governing and the governed . . .".

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145

those who see everything purely in terms of "technique", "tech-
nical" necessity, etc., speculate on this coexistence of different
causes in order to avoid the fundamental problem.

Since the division between rulers and ruled exists even within the
same group, certain principles have to be fixed upon and strictly
observed. For it is in this area that the most serious "errors" take
place, and that the most criminal weaknesses and the hardest to
correct are revealed. For the belief is common that obedience must
be automatic, once it is a question of the same group; and that not
only must it come about without any demonstration of necessity or
rationality being needed, but it must be unquestioning. (Some
believe, and what is worse act in the belief, that obedience "will
come" without being solicited, without the path which has to be
followed being pointed out.) Thus it is difficult to cure leaders
completely of "Cadornism" 29 or the conviction that a thing will
be done because the leader considers it just and reasonable that it
should be done : if it is not done, the blame is put on those who
"ought to have . . .", etc. Thus too it is hard to root out the criminal
habit of permitting useless sacrifices through neglect. Yet common
sense shows that the majority of collective (political) disasters occur
because no attempt has been made to avoid useless sacrifice, or
because manifestly no account has been taken of the sacrifices of
others and their lives have been gambled with. Everyone has heard
officers from the front recount how the soldiers were quite ready to
risk their lives when necessary, but how on the other hand they
would rebel when they saw themselves overlooked. For example:
a company would be capable of going for days without food because
it could see that it was physically impossible for supplies to get
through; but it would mutiny if a single meal was missed as a
result of neglect or bureaucratism, etc.

This principle extends to all actions demanding sacrifices. Hence,
after every disaster, it is necessary first of all to enquire into the
responsibility of the leaders, in the most literal sense. (For example :
a front is made up of various sectors, and each sector has its leaders ;
it is possible that the leaders of one sector are more responsible for
a particular defeat than those of another ; but it is purely a question
of degree — never of anybody being exempt from responsibility.)

" Luigi Cadoma (1 850-1928) was commander-in-chief of the Italian armed
forces until the defeat at Caporetto in 1917, for which he was held responsible.
The war was widely unpopular by 1917, and the Italian soldiers' disaffection was
certainly an important factor in the defeat. Cadoma was taken by Gramsci as
the symbol of the authoritarian leader who makes no attempt to win the "consent"
of those he is leading.

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The principle once posed that there are leaders and led, rulers
and ruled, it is true that parties have up till now been the most
effective way of developing leaders and leadership. (Parties may
present themselves under the most diverse names, even calling
themselves the anti-party or the "negation of the parties"; in
reality, even the so-called "individualists" are party men, only
they would like to be "party chiefs" by the grace of God or the
idiocy of those who follow them.) 30

Development of the general concept contained in the expression
"State spirit". 31 This expression has a quite precise, historically
determinate meaning. But the problem is raised: does there exist
something similar to what is called "State spirit" in every serious
movement, that is to say in every movement which is not the
arbitrary expression of more or less justified individualisms ? Mean-
while "State spirit" presupposes "continuity", either with the past,
or with tradition, or with the future; that is, it presupposes that
every act is a moment in a complex process, which has already
begun and which will continue. The responsibility for this process,
of being actors in this process, of being in solidarity with forces
which are materially "unknown" but which nevertheless feel them-
selves to be active and operational — and of which account is taken,
as if they were physically "material" and present — is precisely in
certain cases called "State spirit". It is obvious that such awareness
of "duration" must be concrete and not abstract, that is to say
in a certain sense must not go beyond certain limits. Let us say that
the narrowest limits are a generation back and a generation to come.
This represents no short period, since generations cannot be
calculated simply as thirty years each — the last thirty and the next
thirty respectively. They have to be calculated organically, which

30 The fascists often described their party as an "anti-party", and Mussolini
liked to expatiate on his own "individualism".

81 Term used by Hegel, e.g. in his Philosophy of History : "This Spirit of a People
is a determinate and particular Spirit, and is, as just stated, further modified by the
degree of its historical development. This Spirit, then, constitutes the basis and
substance of those other forms of a nation's consciousness, which have been
noticed. ... In virtue of the original identity of their essence, purport, and object,
these various forms are inseparably united with the Spirit of the State. Only in
connection with this particular religion can this particular political constitution
exist; just as in such or such a State, such or such a Philosophy or order of Art."
Hegel, op cit., p. 53.

The notion of a "State spirit" was adopted by fascism, see e.g. Mussolini,
Speech to the Chamber of Deputies, 13 May 1929: "What would the State be
if it did not have a spirit, a morality, which is what gives the strength to its laws,
and through which it succeeds in securing the obedience of its citizens?" It is not
entirely clear exactly what Gramsci has in mind here, when he refers to the
"precise, historically determinate meaning" of the expression.

THE MODERN PRINCE 147

at least as far as the past is concerned is easy to understand: we
feel ourselves linked to men who are now extremely old, and who
represent for us the past which still lives among us, which we need
to know and to settle our accounts with, which is one of the elements
of the present and one of the premisses of the future. We also feel
ourselves linked to our children, to the generations which are being
born and growing up, and for which we are responsible. (The cult
of tradition, which has a tendentious value, is something different;
it implies a choice and a determinate goal — that is to say, it is the
basis for an ideology.) However, if it can be said that a "State
spirit" in this sense is to be found in everybody, it is necessary from
time to time to combat distortions of it or deviations from it.

"The act for the act's sake", struggle for the sake of struggle,
etc., and especially mean, petty individualism, which is anyway
merely an arbitrary satisfying of passing whims, etc. (In reality,
the question is still that of Italian "apoliticism", 32 which takes on
these various picturesque and bizarre forms.) Individualism is
merely brutish apoliticism; sectarianism is apoliticism, and if one
looks into it carefully is a form of personal following [clientela],
lacking the party spirit which is the fundamental component of
"State spirit". The demonstration that party spirit is the basic
component of "State spirit" is one of the most critically important
assertions to uphold. Individualism on the other hand is a brutish
element, "admired by foreigners", like the behaviour of the inmates
of a zoological garden. [ 1 933]

THE POLITICAL PARTY

It has already been said that the protagonist of the new Prince
could not in the modern epoch be an individual hero, but only the
political party. That is to say, at different times, and in the various
internal relations of the various nations, that determinate party
which has the aim of founding a new type of State (and which was
rationally and historically created for that end).

It should be noted that in those regimes which call themselves
totalitarian, 33 the traditional function of the institution of the
Crown is in fact taken over by the particular party in question,

» s See PP. pp. 1 1-12.

83 It is important to realise that Gramsci does not use this ■word in the pejorative
sense which it has acquired in bourgeois ideology today it is a quite neutral
term for him, meaning approximately "all-embracing and unifying". We have
sometimes translated it by "global".

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which indeed is totalitarian precisely in that it fulfils this function.
Although every party is the expression of a social group, and of one
social group only, nevertheless in certain given conditions certain
parties represent a single social group precisely in so far as they
exercise a balancing and arbitrating function between the interests
of their group and those of other groups, and succeed in securing
the development of the group which they represent with the consent
and assistance of the allied groups — if not out and out with that of
groups which are definitely hostile. The constitutional formula of the
king, or president of the republic, who "reigns but does not govern"
is the juridical expression of this function of arbitration, the concern
of the constitutional parties not to "unmask" the Crown or the
president. The formulae stating that it is not the head of State who
is responsible for the actions of the government, but his ministers,
are the casuistry behind which lies the general principle of safe-
guarding certain conceptions — the unity of the State; the consent
of the governed to State action — whatever the current personnel of
the government, and whichever party may be in power.

With the totalitarian party, these formulae lose their meaning;
hence the institutions which functioned within the context of such
formulae become less important. But the function itself is incor-
porated in the party, which will exalt the abstract concept of the
"State", and seek by various means to give the impression that it is
working actively and effectively as an "impartial force". [1933-34:
1st version 1930-32.]

Is political action (in the strict sense) necessary, for one to be able
to speak of a "political party" ? It is observable that in the modern
world, in many countries, the organic 34 and fundamental parties
have been compelled by the exigencies of the struggle or for other
reasons to split into fractions — each one of which calls itself a
"party" and even an independent party. Hence the intellectual
General Staff of the organic party often does not belong to any of
these fractions, but operates as if it were a directive force standing
on its own, above the parties, and sometimes is even believed to be
such by the public. This function can be studied with greater
precision if one starts from the point of view that a newspaper too
(or group of newspapers), a review (or group of reviews), is a
"party" or "fraction of a party" or "a function of a particular
party". Think of the role of The Times in England; or that which

" For Gramsci's use of the term "organic", see e.g. "The Formation of the
Intellectuals" on pp. 5-14 above.

THE MODERN PRINCE i^g

Corriere della Sera 35 used to have in Italy; or again of the role of the
so-called "informational press" 36 with its claim to be "apolitical";
or even of that of the sporting and technical press. Moreover, the
phenomenon reveals interesting aspects in countries where there is
a single, totalitarian, governing party. For the functions of such a
party are no longer directly political, but merely technical ones of
propaganda and public order, and moral and cultural influence.
The political function is indirect. For, even if no other legal parties
exist, other parties in fact always do exist and other tendencies
which cannot be legally coerced; and, against these, polemics are
unleashed and struggles are fought as in a game of blind man's
buff. In any case it is certain that in such parties cultural functions
predominate, which means that political language becomes jargon.
In other words, political questions are disguised as cultural ones,
and as such become insoluble.

But there is one traditional party too with an essentially "in-
direct" character — which in other words presents itself explicitly as
purely "educative" (lucus, etc.), 37 moral, cultural (sic). This is the
anarchist movement. Even so-called direct (terrorist) action is
conceived of as "propaganda" by example. This only further
confirms the judgement that the anarchist movement is not auto-
nomous, but exists on the margin of the other parties, "to educate
them". One may speak of an "anarchism" inherent in every organic
party. (What are the "intellectual or theoretical anarchists'*
except an aspect of this "marginalism" in relation to the great
parties of the dominant social groups?) The "economists' sect" 38
itself was an historical aspect of this phenomenon.

Thus there seem to be two types of party which reject the idea of
immediate political action as such. Firstly, there is that which is
constituted by an elite of men of culture, who have the function of

85 The Corriere, under the editorship of Albertini (see note 74 on p. 96), had
been built up as the principal ideological expression of the Milan industrialists,
and the nearest thing to a national organ of the Italian bourgeoisie, prior to
fascism. Under fascism, it was aligned with the regime, but has since reassumed
its former role.

** Literally nmujpapers. On Int. p. 152, Gramsci writes: "A distinction is made
between the so-called informational or 'non-party' paper (without an explicit
party) and the official organ of a particular party ; between the paper for the
popular masses or 'popular' paper and that which is aimed at a necessarily
restricted public."

87 Locus a non lucendo: a famous example of mediaeval false etymology, meaning
"a wood (lucus) is so called because it gives no light {lux)", i.e. the anarchists
claim to be educators, and Gramsci suggests ironically that this is perhaps because
they are nothing of the sort.

" i.e. the Physiocrats in eighteenth-century France.

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providing leadership of a cultural and general ideological nature for
a great movement of interrelated parties (which in reality are
fractions of one and the same organic party). And secondly, in the
more recent period, there is a type of party constituted this time
not by an 61ite but by masses — who as such have no other political
function than a generic loyalty, of a military kind, to a visible or
invisible political centre. (Often the visible centre is the mechanism
of command of forces which are unwilling to show themselves in
the open, but only operate indirectly, through proxies and a "proxy
ideology"). 39 The mass following is simply for "manoeuvre", and
is kept happy by means of moralising sermons, emotional stimuli,
and messianic myths of an awaited golden age, in which all present
contradictions and miseries will be automatically resolved and made
well. [1933]

To write the history of a political party, it is necessary in reality
to confront a whole series of problems of a much less simple kind
than Robert Michels, 40 for example, believes — though he is con-
sidered an expert on the subject. In what will the history of a party
consist? Will it be a simple narrative of the internal life of a political
organisadon? How it comes into existence, the first groups which
constitute it, the ideological controversies through which its pro-
gramme and its conception of the world and of b'fe are formed ? In
such a case, one would merely have a history of certain intellectual
groups, or even sometimes the polidcal biography of a single
personality. The study will therefore have to have a vaster and more
comprehensive framework.

The history will have to be written of a particular mass of men
who have followed the founders of the party, sustained them with
their trust, loyalty and discipline, or cridcised them "realistically"

88 This second type of party must refer to fascism. The first type of "party"
is probably a reference to the role of Croce; see MS. p. 1 72 : "The party as general
ideology, superior to the various more immediate groupings. In reality the liberal
party in Italy after 1876 was characterised by the way in which it presented
itself to the country as a number of national and regional fractions and groups
'in open order'. All of the following were fractions of political liberalism: the
liberal Catholicism of the Popular Party; nationalism (Croce was a contributor
to Politico, the journal of A. Rocco and F. Coppola) ; the monarchist unions;
the Republican Party; a great part of socialism; the democratic radicals: the
conservatives; Sonnino and Salandra; Giolitti, Orlando, Nitti and Co. Croce
was the theorist of what all these groups, grouplets, camarillos and mi fias had in
common; the head of a central propaganda office which benefited all these groups
and which they all made use of; the national leader of the cultural movements
which arose to renovate the old political forms." See too "The History of Europe
seen as 'Passive Revolution' " on pp. 118-20 above.

40 See note 79 on p. 430.

THE MODERN PRINCE

by dispersing or remaining passive before certain initiatives. But
will this mass be made up solely of members of the party ? Will it be
sufficient to follow the congresses, the votes, etc., that is to say
the whole nexus of activities and modes of existence through which
the mass following of a party manifests its will ? Clearly it will be
necessary to take some account of the social group of which the
party in question is the expression and the most advanced element.
The history of a party, in other words, can only be the history of a
particular social group. But this group is not isolated; it has friends,
kindred groups, opponents, enemies. The history of any given
party can only emerge from the complex portrayal of the totality of
society and State (often with international ramifications too).
Hence it may be said that to write the history of a party means
nothing less than to write the general history of a country from a
monographic viewpoint, in order to highlight a particular aspect of
it. A party will have had greater or less significance and weight
precisely to the extent to which its particular activity has been more
or less decisive in determining a country's history.

We may thus see that from the way in which the history of a
party is written there emerges the author's conception of what a
party is and should be. The sectarian will become excited over petty
internal matters, which will have an esoteric significance for him,
and fill him with mystical enthusiasm. The historian, though giving
everything its due importance in the overall picture, will emphasise
above all the real effectiveness of the party, its determining force,
positive and negative, in having contributed to bringing certain
events about and in having prevented other events from taking
place. [1933-4: 1st version 1932.]

The problem of knowing when a party was actually formed, i.e.
undertook a precise and permanent task, gives rise to many argu-
ments and often too, unfortunately, to a kind of conceit which is
no less absurd and dangerous than the "conceit of nations" 43 of
which Vico speaks. It is true that one may say that a party is never
complete and fully-formed, in the sense that every development
creates new tasks and functions, and in the sense that for certain

41 "On the conceit of nations, there is a golden saying of Diodorus Siculus.
Every nation, according to him, whether Greek or barbarian, has had the same
conceit that it before all other nations invented the comforts of human life and
that its remembered history goes back to the very beginning of the world." The
New Science of Giambattista Vico, Cornell, 1968, p. 61. When Gramsci speaks of
"party conceit" he may also have in mind a phrase of Zinoviev's at the Fourth
World Congress, directed in particular against the PCI. Zinoviev referred to the
danger of "Kom-tchuanstvo" = communist boastfulness or conceit.

I52 GRAMSCi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

parties the paradox is true that they are complete and fully-formed
only when they no longer exist — i.e. when their existence has
become historically redundant. Thus, since every party is only the
nomenclature for a class, it is obvious that the party which proposes
to put an end to class divisions will only achieve complete self-
fulfilment when it ceases to exist because classes, and therefore
their expressions, no longer exist. But here I wish to refer to a
particular moment of this process of development, the moment
succeeding that in which something may either exist or not exist — in
the sense that the necessity for it to exist has not yet become
"imperative", but depends to a great extent on the existence of
individuals of exceptional will-power and of exceptional will.

When does a party become historically necessary? When the
conditions for its "triumph", for its inevitable progress to State
power, are at least in the process of formation, and allow their
future evolution — all things going normally — to be foreseen. But
when can one say, given such conditions, that a party cannot be
destroyed by normal means? To give an answer, it is necessary
to develop the following line of reasoning: for a party to exist, three
fundamental elements (three groups of elements) have to converge :

1 . A mass element, composed of ordinary, average men, whose
participation takes the form of discipline and loyalty, rather than
any creative spirit or organisational ability. Without these the party
would not exist, it is true, but it is also true that neither could it
exist with these alone. They are a force in so far as there is somebody
to centralise, organise and discipline them. In the absence of this
cohesive force, they would scatter into an impotent diaspora and
vanish into nothing. Admittedly any of these elements might become
a cohesive force, but I am speaking of them precisely at the moment
when they are not this nor in any condition to become it — or if
they are, it is only in a limited sphere, politically ineffectual and of
no consequence.

2. The principal cohesive element, which centralises nationally
and renders effective and powerful a complex of forces which left
to themselves would count for little or nothing. This element is
endowed with great cohesive, centralising and disciplinary powers;
also — and indeed this is perhaps the basis for the others — with the
power of innovation (innovation, be it understood, in a certain
direction, according to certain lines of force, certain perspectives,
even certain premisses). It is also true that neither could this element
form the party alone; however, it could do so more than could the
first element considered. One speaks of generals without an army,

THE MODERN PRINCE

*53

but in reality it is easier to form an army than to form generals. So
much is this true that an already existing army is destroyed if it
loses its generals, while the existence of a united group of generals
who agree among themselves and have common aims soon creates
an army even where none exists.

3. An intermediate element, which articulates the first element
with the second and maintains contact between them, not only
physically but also morally and intellectually. In reality, for every
party there exist "fixed proportions" 42 between these three elements,
and the greatest effectiveness is achieved when these "fixed pro-
portions" are realised.

In view of these considerations, it is possible to say when it is
that a party cannot be destroyed by normal means. The second
element must necessarily be in existence (if it is not, discussion is
meaningless) ; its appearance is related to the existence of objective
material conditions, even if still in a fragmented and unstable state.
The moment when it becomes impossible to destroy a party by
normal means is reached when the two other elements cannot help
being formed — that is, the first element, which in its turn necessarily
forms the third as its continuation and its means of expressing itself.

For that to happen, the iron conviction has to have been formed
that a particular solution of the vital problems is necessary. Without
this conviction the second element will not be formed. This element
can the more easily be destroyed in that it is numerically weak, but
it is essential that if it is destroyed it should leave as its heritage a
ferment from which it may be recreated. And where could this
ferment better be formed and subsist than in the first and third
elements, which, obviously, are the nearest in character to the
second ? The activity of the second element towards creating this
ferment is therefore fundamental. The criteria by which the
second element should be judged are to be sought; 1. in what it
actually does ; 2. in what provision it makes for the eventuality of its
own destruction. It is difficult to say which of these two facts is the
more important. Since defeat in the struggle must always be
envisaged, the preparation of one's own successors is as important
as what one does for victory.

With regard to party conceit, this may be said to be worse than
the national conceit of which Vico speaks. Why ? Because a nation
cannot help existing; and in the fact that it exists it is always
possible — maybe with a little goodwill and an invocation of the

42 See "The Theorem of Fixed Proportions" on pp. 190-2.

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texts — to discover that its existence is pregnant with destiny and
significance. A party on the other hand may not exist by virtue of
its own strength. It should never be forgotten that, in the struggle
between the nations, it is in the interest of each one of them that
the other should be weakened by internal struggles — and the
parties are precisely the elements of internal struggle. Hence it is
always possible to pose the question of whether the parties exist by
virtue of their own strength, as their own necessity, or whether
rather they only exist to serve the interests of others (and indeed
in polemics this point is never overlooked, in fact it is even a
recurring theme, especially when the answer is not in doubt — so
that it takes hold and creates doubts). Naturally, anybody who
allowed himself to be torn apart by such doubts would be a fool.
Politically the question has only an ephemeral relevance. In the
history of the so-called principle of nationality, foreign interventions
in favour of national parties which trouble the internal order of
enemy States are innumerable ; so much so that when one speaks,
for example, of Cavour's "Eastern" policy, 43 one wonders if it was
really a question of a "policy", a permanent line of action, or not
rather a stratagem of the moment to weaken Austria before 1859
and 1866. Similarly, in the Mazzinian movements of the early
eighteen-seventi'es (the Barsanti affair, for instance) 41 one can
discern the intervention of Bismarck, who with his eyes on the war
with France and the danger of a Franco-Italian alliance thought
to weaken Italy through internal conflict. Similarly, in the events
of June 19 1 4 45 some see the intervention of the Austrian General
Staff with a view to the coming war. As can be seen, the list of
examples is a long one, and it is essential to have clear ideas on the
subject. Given that whatever one does one is always playing some-
body's game, the important thing is to seek in every way to play
one's own game with success — in other words, to win decisively.
At all events, party conceit is to be despised, and replaced by
concrete facts. Anyone who reinforces conceit, or prefers it to
concrete facts, is certainly not be to taken seriously. It is un-
necessary to add that it is essential for parties to avoid even the
"justified" appearance of playing somebody else's game, especially

* s i.e. The policy whereby Piedmont allied itself with England and France
and sent troops to fight in the Crimean War against Russia (1855).

44 On 24 May 1870 Pietro Barsanti, a Mazzinian corporal, attacked a barracks
in Pavia with forty republican followers, shouting "Long live Rome! Long live
the Republic! Down with the monarchy!". He was arrested and shot on 27
August 1870.

46 See note 33 on p. 70.

THE MODERN PRINCE

155

if the somebody is a foreign State. But nobody can prevent specula-
tions from being made.

It is difficult to deny that all political parties (those of sub-
ordinate as well as ruling groups) also carry out a policing function —
that is to say, the function of safeguarding a certain political and
legal order. If this were conclusively demonstrated, the problem
would have to be posed in other terms; it would have to bear, in
other words, on the means and the procedures by which such a
function is carried out. Is its purpose one of repression or of dis-
semination ; in other] words, does it have a reactionary or a progressive
character? Does the given party carry out its policing function in
order to conserve an outward, extrinsic order which is a fetter on
the vital forces of history; or does it carry it out in the sense of
tending to raise the people to a new level of civilisation expressed
programmatically in its political and legal order? In fact, a law
finds a lawbreaker : 1 . among the reactionary social elements whom
it has dispossessed; 2. among the progressive elements whom it
holds back; 3. among those elements which have not yet reached
the level of civilisation which it can be seen as representing. The
policing function of a party can hence be either progressive or
regressive. It is progressive when it tends to keep the dispossessed
reactionary forces within the bounds of legality, and to raise the
backward masses to the level of the new legality. It is regressive
when it tends to hold back the vital forces of history and to maintain
a legality which has been superseded, which is anti-historical,
which has become extrinsic. Besides, the way in which the party
functions provides discriminating criteria. When the party is
progressive it functions "democratically" (democratic centralism) ;
when the party is regressive it functions "bureaucratically" (bureau-
cratic centralism). The party in this second case is a simple, un-
thinking executor. It is then technically a policing organism, and
its name of "political party" is simply a metaphor of a mythological
character. [1933]

The problem arises of whether the great industrialists have a
permanent political party of their own. It seems to me that the
reply must be in the negative. The great industrialists utilise all the
existing parties turn by turn, but they do not have their own party.
This does not mean that they are in any way "agnostic" or
"apolitical". Their interest is in a determinate balance of forces,
which they obtain precisely by using their resources to reinforce
one party or another in turn from the varied political checkerboard
(with the exception, needless to say, only of the enemy party, whose

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reinforcement cannot be assisted even as a tactical move). It is
certain, however, that if this is what happens in "normal" times,
in extreme cases — which are those which count (like war in the life
of a nation) — the party of the great industrialists is that of the
landowners, who for their part do have their own permanent party.
The exemplification of this note may be seen in England, where the
Conservative Party has swallowed up the Liberal Party, although
the latter had traditionally appeared to be the party of the indus-
trialists.

• The English situation, with its great Trade Unions, explains this
fact. In England, admittedly, there does not exist formally a party
on the grand scale which is the enemy of the industrialists. 46 But
there do exist mass organisations of the working-class, and it has
been noted how at certain decisive moments they transform their
constitution from top to bottom, shattering the bureaucratic
carapace (for example, in 1919 and 1926). On the other hand the
landowners and the industrialists have permanent interests which
bind them together (especially now that protectionism has become
general, covering both agriculture and industry) ; and it is un-
deniable that the landowners are "politically" far better organised
than the industrialists, attract more intellectuals than they do, are
more "permanent" in the directives they give, etc. The fate of the
traditional "industrial" parties, like the English "liberal-radicals", 47
the (very different) French radicals, and even the late, lamented
"Italian radicals", 48 is of considerable interest. What did they
represent ? A nexus of classes, great and small, rather than a single,
great class. This is the cause of their various histories and their
various ends. Their combat troops were provided by the petite
bourgeoisie, which found itself in ever-changing conditions within
the nexus until its total transformation. Today it provides the
troops of the "demagogic parties", 49 and it is not hard to under-
stand why this should be.

In general it may be said that, in this history of the parties,
comparison between different countries is highly instructive and

46 i.e. there is no mass Communist Party. Gramsci, of course, did not consider
the Labour Party as an enemy of the industrialists.

47 i.e. the Liberal Party of the latter half of the nineteenth century, with its
radical wing, and perhaps especially with reference to the period after 1 870 when
the Radicals under Chamberlain, Dilke and Bradlaugh were republican and
influenced by socialist ideas.

48 The Italian Radical Party was a small offshoot of the Partita d'Azione, which
campaigned for social legislation, notably on working conditions, in the 1880s.
1 1 thereafter declined, and became a minor component of Giolitti's political bloc.

4 " i.e. the fascist parties.

THE MODERN PRINCE 1 57

indeed decisive in the search for the origin of the causes of trans-
formation. It is true, too, of the polemics between parties in the
"traditionalist" countries — where "remainders" are found from the
entire historical "catalogue".

CONCEPTIONS OF THE WORLD AND PRACTICAL STANCES :
GLOBAL 50 AND PARTIAL

A prime criterion for judging either conceptions of the world or,
especially, practical stances is the following: can the conception of
the world or the practical action in question be conceived of as
"isolated", "independent", bearing entire responsibility for the
collective life? Or is that impossible, and must it be conceived of
as "integration" or perfecting of — or counterweight to — another
conception of the world or practical attitude? Upon reflection, it
can be seen that this criterion is decisive for an ideal judgement on
both ideal and practical changes, and it can also be seen that it
has no small practical implications.

One of the commonest totems is the belief about everything that
exists, that it is "natural" that it should exist, that it could not do
otherwise than exist, and that however badly one's attempts at
reform may go they will not stop life going on, since the traditional
forces will continue to operate and precisely will keep life going on.
There is some truth, certainly, in this way of thinking; it would be
disastrous if there were not. All the same, beyond certain limits,
this way of thinking becomes dangerous (certain cases of "politique
dupire"), 51 and in any case, as has already been said, the criterion
subsists for a philosophical, political and historical judgement. It
is certain that, if one looks into it closely, certain movements
conceive of themselves as being only marginal; that is, they pre-
suppose a major movement onto which they graft themselves in
order to reform certain presumed or real evils. In other words,
certain movements are purely reformist.

This principle has political importance, because the theoretical
truth that every class has a single party is demonstrated, at the
decisive turning-points, by the fact that various groupings, each of
which had up till then presented itself as an "independent" party,
come together to form a united bloc. The multiplicity which
previously existed was purely "reformist" in character, that is to
say it was concerned with partial questions. In a certain sense, it

"Global" has been used here to translate "totalitari", see note 33 on p. 147.
i.e. the idea that "the worse things get, the better that will be".

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was a political division of labour (useful, within its limits) . But each
part presupposed the other, so much so that at the decisive moments
— in other words precisely when fundamental questions were
brought into play — the unity was formed, the bloc came into
existence. Hence the conclusion that in building a party, it is
necessary to give it a "monolithic" character rather than base it on
secondary questions; therefore, painstaking care that there should
be homogeneity between the leadership and the rank and file,
between the leaders and their mass following. If, at the decisive
moments, the leaders pass over to their "true party", the rank and
file militants are left suspended, paralysed and ineffective. One
may say that no real movement becomes aware of its global char-
acter all at once, but only gradually through experience — in other
words, when it learns from the facts that nothing which exists is
natural (in the non-habitual sense of the word), but rather exists
because of the existence of certain conditions, whose disappearance
cannot remain without consequences. Thus the movement perfects
itself, loses its arbitrary, "symbiotic" traits, becomes truly inde-
pendent, in the sense that in order to produce certain results it
creates the necessary preconditions, and indeed devotes all its
forces to the creation of these preconditions. [1933]

some theoretical and practical aspects of
"economism"

Economism — theoretical movement for Free Trade — theoretical
syndicalism. 52 It should be considered to what degree theoretical

** Economism was defined in various ways by Lenin, especially in What is to
be Done?, e.g. "the fundamental political tendency of Economism — let the workers
carry on the economic struggle (it would be more correct to say the trade-unionist
struggle, because the latter also embraces specifically working-class politics) and
let the Marxist intelligentsia merge with the liberals for the political 'struggle'."
Lenin opposed to economism the theory of a vanguard party which would unite
intellectuals and workers, and bring socialist theory "from outside" to the pro-
letariat — which in the course of its own, spontaneous activity can only develop
"trade-union consciousness".

By "theoretical syndicalism", Gramsci means what is in English known simply
as "syndicalism" — the Italian word "sindacalismo" means both "syndicalism" and
"trade-unionism". There was a strong syndicalist tradition in the Italian working-
class, notably among the anarchists and anarcho-syndicalists. Anarchist workers
played a leading part in many of the great industrial struggles of the war and
immediate post-war years, especially in Turin, where Gramsci during the Ordint
Nuovo period repeatedly attacked the sectarianism of many socialists towards
them. On the other hand, the anarcho-syndicalist leaders, typified by Arturo
Labriola, were politically ambiguous to say the least. Labriola was an inter-

THE MODERN PRINCE Itjg

syndicalism derives originally from the philosophy of praxis, and
to what degree from the economic doctrines of Free Trade — i.e. in
the last analysis from liberalism. Hence it should be considered
whether economism, in its most developed form, is not a direct
descendant of liberalism, having very little connection with, the
philosophy of praxis even in its origins — and what connection it
had only extrinsic and purely verbal.

From this point of view one should study the polemic between
Einaudi and Croce over the new ( ig 1 7) preface to Croce's "Historical
Materialism". 63 The need, spoken of by Einaudi, to take into
account the literature of economic history inspired by English
classical economics, may be satisfied in the following sense. The
literature in question, through a superficial contamination with
the philosophy of praxis, gave rise to economism; hence when
Einaudi criticises (very imprecisely, to tell the truth) certain
economistic degenerations, he forgets the old adage that those who
live in glass houses should not throw stones. The nexus between
free-trade ideology and theoretical syndicalism is particularly
evident in Italy, where the admiration of syndicalists like Lanzillo
& Co. for Pareto is well known. 54 The significance of the two
tendencies, however, is very different. The former belongs to a
dominant and directive social group ; the latter to a group which
is still subaltern, which has not yet gained consciousness of its
strength, its possibilities, of how it is to develop, and which therefore
does not know how to escape from the primitivist phase.

The ideas of the Free Trade movement are based on a theoretical
error whose practical origin is not hard to identify; they are based

ventionist in 1915, and although he was later an anti-fascist, many of the other
anarcho-syndicalist leaders rallied via nationalism to fascism, in a process which
Gramsci related to the "transformism" of the bourgeois politicians following the
Risorgimento. (See note 8 on p. 58 and Alcuni temi.)

a Luigi Einaudi (1874 IC /6i) was a prominent liberal politican and economist,
who participated in the Aventine opposition to fascism in 1924 25, and who after
the fall of fascism became Governor of the Bank of Italy, and subsequently
President of the Republic (1948-55). Croce's Materialinno storico ed economia
marxistica was first published in 1900, but in 19 17 Croce added a new preface
to the third edition in which he explained his reasons for having written the book:
what he saw as the beneficent effects of Marxism on Italian intellectual life in the
decade 1 890-1 900, notably in its impact on historical studies. Einaudi's comments
were published in R iforma Sociale, July-August 1918, p. 415.

54 Agostino Lanzillo (1886 1952) was an anarcho-syndicalist, author of a book
on Sorel, who rallied to fascism and became a member of the National Council
of the fascist corporations in 1 93 1 . Gramsci analysed the process whereby many
anarcho-syndicalists rallied to nationalism and fascism in his Alcuni temi. (See
too note 8 on p. 58.) Pareto is best known today for his theory of elites, but he
was also a prominent economist and theorist of Free Trade.

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on a distinction between political society and civil society, 55 which
is made into and presented as an organic one, whereas in fact it is
merely methodological. Thus it is asserted that economic activity
belongs to civil society, and that the State must not intervene to
regulate it. But since in actual reality civil society and State are
one and the same, it must be made clear that laissez-faire too is a
form of State "regulation", introduced and maintained by legis-
lative and coercive means. It is a deliberate policy, conscious of its
own ends, and not the spontaneous,automatic expression of economic
facts. Consequently, laissez-faire liberalism is a political programme,
designed to change — in so far as it is victorious — a State's leading
personnel, and to change the economic programme of the State
itself- — in other words the distribution of the national income.

The case of theoretical syndicalism is different. Here we are
dealing with a subaltern group, which is prevented by this theory
from ever becoming dominant, or from developing beyond the
economic-corporate stage and rising to the phase of ethical-political
hegemony in civil society, and of domination in the State. In the
case of laissez-faire liberalism, one is dealing with a fraction
of the ruling class which wishes to modify not the structure of the
State, but merely government policy; which wishes to reform the
laws controlling commerce, but only indirectly those controlling
industry (since it is undeniable that protection, especially in
countries with a poor and restricted market, limits freedom of
industrial enterprise and favours unhealthily the creation of
monopolies). What is at stake is a rotation in governmental office
of the ruling-class parties, not the foundation and organisation of a
new political society, and even less of a new type of civil society.
In the case of the theoretical syndicalist movement the problem
is more complex. It is undeniable that in it, the independence and
autonomy of the subaltern group which it claims to represent are
in fact sacrificed to the intellectual hegemony of the ruling class,
since precisely theoretical syndicalism is merely an aspect of laissez-
faire liberalism — -justified with a few mutilated (and therefore
banalised) theses from the philosophy of praxis. Why and how does
this "sacrifice" come about? The transformation of the subordinate
group into a dominant one is excluded, either because the problem
is not even considered (Fabianism, De Man, 56 an important part

66 See introduction to "State and Civil Society" on pp. 206-g.

56 Henri de Man (1885 1953) was a Belgian social-democrat, author notably
of the work of revisionism Au deli du marxisme" (ig2g). In 1934 he wrote a
programme of peaceful transition to socialism, known as the "De Man Plan",

THE MODERN PRINCE

161

of the Labour Party), or because it is posed in an inappropriate
and ineffective form (social-democratic tendencies in general), or
because of a belief in the possibility of leaping from class society
directly into a society of perfect equality with a syndical economy.

The attitude of economism towards expressions of political and
intellectual will, action or initiative is to say the least strange — as if
these did not emanate organically from economic necessity, and
indeed were not the only effective expression of the economy. Thus
it is incongruous that the concrete posing of the problem of hegemony
should be interpreted as a fact subordinating the group seeking
hegemony. Undoubtedly the fact of hegemony presupposes that
account be taken of the interests and the tendencies of the groups
over which hegemony is to be exercised, and that a certain com-
promise equilibrium should be formed — in other words, that the
leading group should make sacrifices of an economic-corporate
kind. But there is also no doubt that such sacrifices and such a
compromise cannot touch the essential; for though hegemony is
ethical-political, it must also be economic, must necessarily be based
on the decisive function exercised by the leading group in the
decisive nucleus of economic activity.

Economism appears in many other guises besides laissez-faire
liberalism and theoretical syndicalism. All forms of electoral
abstentionism belong to it (a typical example is the abstentionism
of the Italian Clericals after 1870, which became ever more
attenuated after igoo until igig and the formation of the Popular
Party; 57 the organic distinction which the Clericals made between
the real Italy and the legal Italy was a reproduction of the dis-
tinction between economic world and politico-legal world); and
there are many such forms, in the sense that there can be semi-
abstentionism, 25 per cent abstentionism, etc. Linked with absten-
tionism is the formula "the worse it gets, the better that will be",
and also the formula of the so-called parliamentary "intransigence"
of certain groups of deputies. 58 Economism is not always opposed
to political action and to the political party, but the latter is seen
merely as an educational organism similar in kind to a trade union.

and was a minister from 1935 to 1938. In 1946 he was sentenced to prison for
collaboration with the Germans during the occupation of Belgium.

67 See notes 14 on p. 62, 73 on p. 9G and 89 on p. 102.

68 For the "intransigents" see note 72 on p. 95 and General Introduction.
Some of the old intransigent wing of the PSI helped to form the Communist
Party in 1921, others remained in the "maximalist" majority faction of the PSI,
This passage, however, seems clearly directed more specifically against Bordiga,
his abstentionism, etc.

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One point of reference for the study of economism, and for under-
standing the relations between structure and superstructure, is the
passage in The Poverty of Philosophy where it says that an important
phase in the development of a social class is that in which the
individual components of a trade union no longer struggle solely
for their own economic interests, but for the defence and the
development of the organisation itself.* In this connection Engels'
statement too should be recalled, that the economy is only the
mainspring of history "in the last analysis" (to be found in his two
letters on the philosophy of praxis also published in Italian) ; 61 this
statement is to be related directly to the passage in the preface to
the Critique of Political Economy which says that it is on the level of
ideologies that men become conscious of conflicts in the world of
the economy.

At various points in these notes it is stated that the philosophy of
praxis is far more widely diffused than is generally conceded. The
assertion is correct if what is meant is that historical economism,
as Professor Loria 62 now calls his more or less incoherent theories,
is widely diffused, and that consequently the cultural environment
has completely changed from the time in which the philosophy of
praxis began its struggles. One might say, in Crocean terminology,
that the greatest heresy which has grown in the womb of the
"religion of freedom" has itself too like orthodox religion degener-
ated, and has become disseminated as "superstition" — in other
words, has combined with laissez-faire liberalism and produced
economism. However, it remains to be seen whether — in contrast to
orthodox religion, which has by now quite shrivelled up — this
heretical superstition has not in fact always maintained a ferment
which will cause it to be reborn as a higher form of religion; in
other words, if the dross of superstition is not in fact easily got rid of.

* See the exact statement. 68 The Poverty of Philosophy is an essential moment in
the formation of the philosophy of praxis. It can be considered as a development
of the Theses on Feuerbach, while The Holy Family an occasional work is a vaguely
intermediate stage, as is apparent from the passages devoted to Proudhon and
especially to French materialism. The passage on French materialism is more than
anything else a chapter of cultural history not a theoretical passage as it is often
interpreted as being and as cultural history it is admirable. Recall the observa-
tion that the critique of Proudhon and of his interpretation of the Hegelian
dialectic contained in The Poverty of the Philosophy may be extended to Gioberti
and to the Hegelianism of the Italian moderate liberals in general. 60 The parallel
Proudhon-Gioberti, despite the fact that they represent non-homogeneous politico-
historical phases, indeed precisely for that reason, can be interesting and productive.

" Poverty of Philosophy, Lawrence and Wishart, London, 1956, pp. 194-95-

60 See note 36 on p. 399.

61 See note 74 on p. 427. ,J See note 108 on p. 458.

THE MODERN PRINCE 1 63

A few characteristics of historical economism: i. in the search for
historical connections it makes no distinction between what is
"relatively permanent" and what is a passing fluctuation, and by
an economic fact it means the self-interest of an individual or small
group, in an immediate and "dirty-Jewish" sense. In other words,
it does not take economic class formations into account, with all
their inherent relations, but is content to assume motives of mean
and usurious self-interest, especially when it takes forms which the
law defines as criminal ; 2. the doctrine according to which economic
development is reduced to the course of technical change in the
instruments of work. Professor Loria has produced a splendid
demonstration of this doctrine in application, in his article on the
social influence of the aeroplane published in Rassegna Contemporanea
in 1912; 3. the doctrine according to which economic and historical
development are made to depend directly on the changes in some
important element of production — the discovery of a new raw
material or fuel, etc. — which necessitate the application of new
methods in the construction and design of machines. In recent
times there has been an entire literature on the subject of petroleum :
Antonio Laviosa's article in Nuova Antologia of 16 May 1929 can
be read as a typical example. The discovery of new fuels and new
forms of energy, just as of new raw materials to be transformed, is
certainly of great importance, since it can alter the position of
individual states; but it does not determine historical movement, etc.

It often happens that people combat historical economism in the
belief that they are attacking historical materialism. This is the
case, for instance, with an article in the Paris Avenir of 10 October
1930 (reproduced in Rassegna Settimanale delta Stampa Estera [Weekly
Review of the Foreign Press] of 21 October 1930, pp. 2303-4),
which can be quoted as typical: "We have been hearing for some
time, especially since the war, that it is self-interest which governs
nations and drives the world forward. It was the Marxists who
invented this thesis, to which they give the somewhat doctrinaire
title of 'Historical Materialism'. In pure Marxism, men taken as a
mass obey economic necessity and not their own emotions. Politics
is emotion; patriotism is emotion; these two imperious goddesses
merely act as a facade in history. In reality, the history of peoples
throughout the centuries is to be explained by a changing, con-
stantly renewed interplay of material causes. Everything is
economics. Many 'bourgeois' philosophers and economists have
taken up this refrain. They pretend to be able to explain high
international politics to us by the current price of grain, oil or

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rubber. They use all their ingenuity to prove that diplomacy is
entirely governed by questions of custom tariffs and cost prices.
These explanations enjoy a high esteem. They have a modicum of
scientific appearance, and proceed from a sort of superior scepticism
which would like to pass for the last word in elegance. Emotions in
foreign policy? Feelings in home affairs? Enough of that! That
stuff is all right for the common people. The great minds, the
initiates, know that everything is governed by debits and credits.
Now this is an absolute pseudo-truth. It is utterly false that peoples
only allow themselves to be moved by considerations of self-interest,
and it is entirely true that they are above all motivated by desire
for, and ardent belief in, prestige. Anyone who does not understand
this, does not understand anything." The article (entitled The
Desire for Prestige) goes on to cite the examples of German and
Italian politics, which it claims are governed by considerations of
prestige, and not dictated by material interests. In short, it includes
most of the more banal polemical gibes that are directed against the
philosophy of praxis ; but the real target of the polemic is crude
economism of Loria's kind. However, the author is not very strong in
argument in other respects either. He does not understand that
"feelings" may be simply a synonym for economic interests, and
that it is difficult to maintain that political activity is a permanent
state of raw emotion and of spasm. Indeed he himself presents
French politics as systematic and coherent "rationality", i.e. purged
of all emotional elements, etc.

In its most widespread form as economistic superstition, the
philosophy of praxis loses a great part of its capacity for cultural
expansion among the top layer of intellectuals, however much it
may gain among the popular masses and the second-rate intel-
lectuals, who do not intend to overtax their brains but still wish to
appear to know everything, etc. As Engels wrote, many people find
it very convenient to think that they can have the whole of history
and all political and philosophical wisdom in their pockets at little
cost and no trouble, concentrated into a few short formulae. They
forget that the thesis which asserts that men become conscious of
fundamental conflicts on the level of ideology is not psychological
or moralistic in character, but structural and epistemological; and
they form the habit of considering politics, and hence history, as a
continuous marche de dupes, a competition in conjuring and sleight
of hand. "Critical" activity is reduced to the exposure of swindles,
to creating scandals, and to prying into the pockets of public
figures.

THE MODERN PRINCE

It is thus forgotten that since "economism" too is, or is presumed
to be, an objective principle of interpretation (objective-scientific),
the search for direct self-interest should apply to all aspects of
history, to those who represent the "thesis" as well as to those who
represent the "antithesis". Furthermore, another proposition of the
philosophy of praxis is also forgotten: that "popular beliefs" and
similar ideas are themselves material forces. The search for "dirty-
Jewish" interests has sometimes led to monstrous and comical
errors of interpretation, which have consequently reacted negatively
on the prestige of the original body of ideas. It is therefore necessary
to combat economism not only in the theory of historiography, but
also and especially in the theory and practice of politics. In this
field, the struggle can and must be carried on by developing the
concept of hegemony — as has been done in practice in the develop-
ment of the theory of the political party, 63 and in the actual history
of certain political parties (the struggle against the theorv of the
so-called Permanent Revolution — to which was counterposed the
concept of revolutionary-democratic dictatorship; 64 the extent of

68 By Lenin, What is to be done? etc.

64 Trotsky's theory of permanent revolution was not really developed before
his "Balances and Prospects" of 1906. However, in 1905 he had published a
pamphlet called "The period up to 9 January" which was published with a
preface by Parvus which stated that "The Revolutionary Provisional Government
of Russia will be the government of a workers' democracy ... a coherent govern-
ment with a social-democratic majority". This position differed both from that
of the Menshevilis, who believed that the revolution was necessarily bourgeois
in character and that the social-democrats should adopt an abstentionist attitude,
and from that of the Bolsheviks, who stood precisely for a "revolutionary-demo-
cratic dictatorship of workers and peasants". Lenin's two main texts (prior to his
"Two Tactics of Social-Democracy") developing the latter concept: "Social-Demo-
cracy and the Provisional Revolutionary Government", and "The Revolutionary-
democratic Dictatorship of the Proletariat and the Peasantry" are polemics
against the Mensheviks, but the former includes a section commending Parvus'
text, but warning against certain errors contained in it, notably the statement that
the revolutionary provisional government would be a Social-Democratic govern-
ment. "This is impossible", Lenin wrote, ". . . because only a revolutionary
dictatorship supported by the vast majority of the people can be at all durable. . . .
The Russian proletariat, however, is at present a minority of the population in
Russia. It can become the great, overwhelming majority only if it combines with
the mass of semi-proletarians, semi-proprietors, i.e. with the mass of the petty-
bourgeois urban and rural poor. Such a composition of the social basis of the
possible and desirable revolutionary-democratic dictatorship will, of course, affect
the composition of the revolutionary government and inevitably lead to the
participation, or even predominance, within it of the most heterogeneous repre-
sentatives of revolutionary democracy." The slogan of the revolutionary-
democratic dictatorship was of course dropped by Lenin and the Bolsheviks after
the February Revolution in 1917, but it was revived in the inner-party debates
of the mid-twenties, especially with reference to Poland and to the Chinese
Revolution.

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the support given to constituentist ideologies, 65 etc.). A study could
be made of how certain political movements were judged during
the course of their development. One could take as a model the
Boulangist movement (from 1886 to 1890 approximately) 66 or the
Dreyfus trial or even the coup d'etat of 2nd December (one would
analyse the classic work on the subject 6 ' and consider how much
relative importance is given on the one hand to immediate economic
factors, and on the other to the concrete study of "ideologies").
Confronted with these events, economism asks the question: "who
profits directly from the initiative under consideration?", and
replies with a line of reasoning which is as simplistic as it is fallacious :
the ones who profit directly are a certain fraction of the ruling class.
Furthermore, so that no mistake shall be made, the choice falls on
that fraction which manifestly has a progressive function, controlling
the totality of economic forces. One can be certain of not going
wrong, since necessarily, if the movement under consideration comes
to power, sooner or later the progressive fraction of the ruling group
will end up by controlling the new government, and by making
it its instrument for turning the State apparatus to its own benefit.

This sort of infallibility, therefore, comes very cheap. It not only
has no theoretical significance — it has only minimal political
implications or practical efficacy. In general, it produces nothing
but moralistic sermons, and interminable questions of personality.
When a movement of the Boulangist type occurs, the analysis
realistically should be developed along the following lines: 1.
social content of the mass following of the movement; 2. what
function did this mass have in the balance of forces — which is in
process of transformation, as the new movement demonstrates by
its very coming into existence? 3. what is the political and social
significance of those of the demands presented by the movement's
leaders which find general assent ? To what effective needs do they
correspond? 4. examination of the conformity of the means to the
proposed end; 5. only in the last analysis, and formulated in
political not moralistic terms, is the hypothesis considered that such
a movement will necessarily be perverted, and serve quite different
ends from those which the mass of its followers expect. But economism

* 6 i.e. the huge weight of the "mass of the petit-bourgeois urban and rural
poor", referred to in the passage from Lenin quoted in the preceding note, in the
existing balance of social forces in Russia. These strata had democratic or "con-
stituentist" objectives, i.e. they wanted a Constituent Assembly and put their
faith in constitutional reforms. See too Lenin's article "Constitutional Illusions"
of July 1917. 66 See note 7 on p. 129.

• 7 i.e. Marx's Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte.

THE MODERN PRINCE 167

puts forward this hypothesis in advance, when no concrete fact
(that is to say, none which appears as such to the evidence of
common sense — rather than as a result of some esoteric "scientific"
analysis) yet exists to support it. It thus appears as a moralistic
accusation of duplicity and bad faith, or (in the case of the move-
ment's followers), of naivete and stupidity. Thus the political
struggle is reduced to a series of personal affairs between on the
one hand those with the genie in the lamp who know everything
and on the other those who are fooled by their own leaders but are
so incurably thick that they refuse to believe it. Moreover, until
such movements have gained power, it is always possible to think
that they are going to fail — and some indeed have failed (Boulangism
itself, which failed as such and then was definitively crushed with
the rise of the Dreyfusard movement; the movement of Georges
Valois; that of General Gajda). 68 Research must therefore be
directed towards identifying their strengths and weaknesses. The
"economist" hypothesis asserts the existence of an immediate
element of strength — i.e. the availability of a certain direct or
indirect financial backing (a large newspaper supporting the move-
ment is also a form of indirect financial backing) — and is satisfied
with that. But it is not enough. In this case too, an analysis of the
balance of forces — at all levels — can only culminate in the sphere of
hegemony and ethico-political relations. [1933 34: 1st version

I930-32-]

One point which should be added as an example of the so-called
intransigence theories is the rigid aversion on principle to what are
termed compromises 69 — and the derivative of this, which can be
termed "fear of dangers". It is clear that this aversion on principle

68 Georges Valois was a French fascist thinker, who early in this century
formed the "Cercle Proudhon", of which Sorel was a member. After the World War
he organised a movement aimed at "national revolution", based on ex servicemen
and inspired by Mussolini; it was equally hostile to "bolshevism" and "plutoc-
racy". In the 'thirties he espoused a form of "convergence" theory, seeing both
the USA and the USSR as evolving towards a highly technological, syndical
form of society.

General Rudolf Gajda, commander of the Czech Legion under Kolchak
during the Civil War in Russia, discharged from the Czech army for plotting a
military putsch in the 'twenties, formed a fascist League for Electoral Reform
which won three seats in the 1929 elections in Czechoslovakia. When the Nazis
entered the country, he hoped to become their puppet ruler, but they no doubt
mistrusted his nationalist past since his hopes were frustrated.

89 In his comments on "intransigents" (see note 58 on p. 161) Gramsci often
appears, as here, to be referring also — or even especially — to the positions of
Amadeo Bordiga (see General Introduction). Bordiga was among those com
munists criticised in Lenin's Left wing Communism an infantile disorder, whose
eighth chapter was entitled, ironically, "No compromises?".

GRAMSGi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

to compromise is closely linked to economism. For the conception
upon which the aversion is based can only be the iron conviction
that there exist objective laws of historical development similar in
kind to natural laws, together with a belief in a predetermined
teleology like that of a religion: since favourable conditions are
inevitably going to appear, and since these, in a rather mysterious
way, will bring about palingenetic events, it is evident that any
deliberate initiative tending to predispose and plan these conditions
is not only useless but even harmful. Side by side with these fatalistic
beliefs however, there exists the tendency "thereafter" to rely
blindly and indiscriminately on the regulatory properties of armed
conflict. Yet this too is not entirely without its logic and its con-
sistency, since it goes with a belief that the intervention of will is
useful for destruction but not for reconstruction (already under way
in the very moment of destruction). Destruction is conceived of
mechanically, not as destruction/reconstruction. In such modes of
thinking, no account is taken of the "time" factor, nor in the last
analysis even of "economics". For there is no understanding of the
fact that mass ideological factors always lag behind mass economic
phenomena, and that therefore, at certain moments, the automatic
thrust due to the economic factor is slowed down, obstructed or
even momentarily broken by traditional ideological elements —
hence that there must be a conscious, planned struggle to ensure
that the exigencies of the economic position of the masses, which
may conflict with the traditional leadership's policies, are under-
stood. An appropriate political initiative is always necessary to
liberate the economic thrust from the dead weight of traditional
policies — i.e. to change the political direction of certain forces
which have to be absorbed if a new, homogeneous politico-economic
historical bloc, without internal contradictions, is to be successfully
formed. And, since two "similar" forces can only be welded into
a new organism either through a series of compromises or by force
of arms, either by binding them to each other as allies or by forcibly
subordinating one to the other, the question is whether one has the
necessary force, and whether it is "productive" to use it. If the
union of two forces is necessary in order to defeat a third, a recourse
to arms and coercion (even supposing that these are available) can
be nothing more than a methodological hypothesis ; the only concrete
possibility is compromise. Force can be employed against enemies,
but not against a part of one's own side which one wishes rapidly
to assimilate, and whose "good will" and enthusiasm one needs.
[ r 933-34 : Ist version 1932.]

THE MODERN PRINCE

169

PREDICTION AND PERSPECTIVE

Another point which needs to be defined and developed is the "dual
perspective" 70 in political action and in national life. The dual
perspective can present itself on various levels, from the most
elementary to the most complex; but these can all theoretically be
reduced to two fundamental levels, corresponding to the dual nature

70 As explained in the following passage, this notion means for Gramsci the
dialectical unity of the moments of force and consent in political action. The term
"doppia prospettiva" goes back to the Fifth World Congress of the Comintern.
The Congress followed a long series of defeats for the revolution internationally,
culminating in the German October of 1923. Zinoviev, who had succeeded in
placing his proteges Fischer and Maslov at the head of the German Party and in
laying the blame for the defeat at the door of Brandler, who was ousted from the
leadership, was anxious to present the entire episode as not being of critical
importance, and the German revolution as still being on the cards in the immediate
future. Trotsky and Radek were arguing that the European bourgeoisie was
moving in the direction of a "labourist" resolution of its post-war political crisis,
witness events in England and France. Under Zinoviev's guidance, the Congress
in effect adopted a compromise solution, allowing both for the imminence of
revolution and for a generalisation of the "labourist" solution. Section XIII of
the Theses on Tactics was entitled "Two Perspectives". It stated :

"The epoch of international revolution has commenced. The rate of its develop-
ment as a whole or partially, the rate of development of revolutionary events in
any particular continent or in any particular country, cannot be foretold with
precision. The whole situation is such that two perspectives are open: (a) a
possible slow and prolonged development of the proletarian revolution, and (b)
on the other hand, that the ground under capitalism has been mined to such an
extent and that the contradictions of capitalism as a whole have developed so
rapidly, that the solution in one country or another may come in the not distant
future.

"The Comintern must base its tactics upon the possibility of both perspectives.
The manoeuvres of the Comintern must be so arranged as to be able rapidly to
adapt oneself to the changing rate of development, and in any case even with a
prolonged rate of development of events, to remain the irreconcilable mass
Communist Party of proletarian revolution which attracts the masses and trains
them for the revolutionary struggle."

This dual perspective continued to characterise Comintern strategy in the
following years ; Zinoviev reaffirmed it, for instance, at the Sixth Plenum in early
1926. Although its original formulation by Zinoviev was due to mainly tactical
considerations, Gramsci seems to have continued to see it as preferable to the
"right" line of 1926 28 and the "left" line of the Third Period, and to have felt
that its directives could be generalised for all periods when "frontal attack" was
not immediately possible. According to Athos Lisa (see General Introduction),
Gramsci spoke of the "two perspectives" during the discussions which took place
among the prisoners at Turi. He said that of the two, the more likely was that of
some form of transitional stage intervening between the fall of fascism and the
dictatorship of the proletariat, and that the party's tactics should take this into
account. On the other hand, his criticisms here of those who "have reduced the
theory of the 'dual perspective' to . . . nothing but two forms of 'immediacy',
etc." are directed against any strategy which separates the moment of force from
the moment of consent.

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of Machiavelli's Centaur 71 — half-animal and half-human. They are
the levels of force and of consent, authority and hegemony,
violence and civilisation, of the individual moment and of the
universal moment ("Church" and "State"), of agitation and of
propaganda, of tactics and of strategy, etc. Some have reduced the
theory of the "dual perspective" to something trivial and banal, to
nothing but two forms of "immediacy" which succeed each other
mechanically in time, with greater or less "proximity". In actual
fact, it often happens that the more the first "perspective" is
"immediate" and elementary, the more the second has to be
"distant" (not in time, but as a dialectical relation), complex and
ambitious. In other words, it may happen as in human life, that the
more an individual is compelled to defend his own immediate
physical existence, the more will he uphold and identify with the
highest values of civilisation and of humanity, in all their com-
plexity. [1933-34: 1st version 1931-32.]

It is certain that prediction only means seeing the present and the
past clearly as movement. Seeing them clearly: in other words,
accurately identifying the fundamental and permanent elements of

71 "You should understand, therefore, that there are two ways of fighting:
by law or by force. The first way is natural to men, and the second to beasts. But
as the first way often proves inadequate one must needs have recourse to the
second. So a prince must understand how to make a nice use of the beast and
the man. The ancient writers taught princes about this by an allegory, when they
described how Achilles and many other princes of the ancient world were sent to
be brought up by Chiron, the centaur, so that he might train them his way. All
the allegory means, in making the teacher half beast and half man, is that a
prince must know how to act according to the nature of both, and that he cannot
survive otherwise." Machiavelli, TkePrince, Penguin, 1961, p. 99. See too NM. pp.
1 2 1-2: "Guicciardini's assertion that two things are absolutely necessary for the
life of a State: arms and religion. Guicciardini's formula can be translated by
various other, less drastic formulae: force and consent; coercion and persuasion;
State and Church ; political society and civil society ; politics and morality (Croce's
ethical political history) ; law and freedom; order and self-discipline; or (with an
implicit judgement of somewhat libertarian flavour) violence and fraud. In any
case, in the political conception of the Renaissance, religion was consent and the
Church was civil society, the hegemonic apparatus of the ruling group. For the
latter did not have its own apparatus, i.e. did not have its own cultural and
intellectual organisation, but regarded the universal ecclesiastical organisation as
being that. The only way in which this differed from the Middle Ages was the fact
that religion was openly conceived of and analysed as an instrumentum regni. It is
from this point of view that the Jacobin attempt to institute a cult of the 'Supreme
Being' should be studied. This appears to be an attempt to create an identity
between State and civil society; to unify in a dictatorial way the constitutive
elements of the State (in the organic, wider sense of the State proper -f- civil
society), in a desperate endeavour to keep a hold on all of popular and national
life. But it appears too as the first root of the modern lay State, independent of
the Church, which seeks and finds in itself, in its own complex life, all the elements
of its historical personality."

THE MODERN PRINCE

171

the process. But it is absurd to think of a purely "objective" pre-
diction. Anybody who makes a prediction has in fact a "pro-
gramme" for whose victory he is working, and his prediction is
precisely an element contributing to that victory. This does not
mean that prediction need always be arbitrary and gratuitous, or
simply tendentious. Indeed one might say that only to the extent
to which the objective aspect of prediction is linked to a programme
does it acquire its objectivity: 1. because strong passions are
necessary to sharpen the intellect and help make intuition more
penetrating ; 2. because reality is a product of the application of
human will to the society of things (the machine-operator's to his
machine); therefore if one excludes all voluntarist elements, or if
it is only other people's wills whose intervention one reckons as an
objective element in the general interplay of forces, one mutilates
reality itself. Only the man who wills something strongly can
identify the elements which are necessary to the realisation of his will.

Hence to believe that one particular conception of the world,
and of life generally, in itself possesses a superior predictive capacity
is a crudely fatuous and superficial error. Certainly a conception of
the world is implicit in every prediction, and therefore whether the
latter is a random series of arbitrary notions or a rigorous and
coherent vision is not without its importance; but it precisely
acquires that importance in the living brain of the individual who
makes the prediction, and who by the strength of his will makes it
come true. This can be clearly seen in the case of predictions made
by people who claim to be "impartial" : they are full of idle specula-
tion, trivial detail, and elegant conjectures. When a particular
programme has to be realised, it is only the existence of somebody
to "predict" it which will ensure that it deals with what is essential —
with those elements which, being "organisable" and susceptible of
being directed or deflected, are in reality alone predictable. This is
in contrast with the habitual way of looking at the problem. For it
is generally thought that every act of prediction presupposes the
determination of laws of regularity similar to those of the natural
sciences. But since these laws do not exist in the absolute or mech-
anical sense that is imagined, no account is taken of the will of
others, nor is its application "predicted". Consequently everything
is built on an arbitrary hypothesis and not on reality. [1933]

"Too much" (therefore superficial and mechanical) political
realism often leads to the assertion that a statesman should only
work within the limits of "effective reality"; that he should not
interest himself in what "ought to be" but only in what "is". This

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would mean that he should not look farther than the end of his own
nose. This misunderstanding led Paolo Treves to see in Guicciardini
rather than in Machiavelli the "true politician". 72

A distinction must be made not only between "diplomat" and
"politician", but also between political scientist and active politician.
The diplomat inevitably will move only within the bounds of
effective reality, since his specific activity is not the creation of
some new equilibrium, but the maintenance of an existing equili-
brium within a certain juridical framework. Similarly, the political
scientist has to keep within the bounds of effective reality in so far
as he is merely a scientist. But Machiavelli is not merely a scientist:
he is a partisan, a man of powerful passions, an active politician,
who wishes to create.a new balance of forces and therefore cannot
help concerning himself with what "ought to be" (not of course in
a moralistic sense). Hence the question cannot be posed in these
terms, it is more complex. It is one, that is to say, of seeing whether
what "ought to be" is arbitrary or necessary; whether it is concrete
will on the one hand or idle fancy, yearning, daydream on the other.
The active politician is a creator, an initiator; but he neither
creates from nothing nor does he move in the turbid void of his
own desires and dreams. He bases himself on effective reality, but
what is this effective reality? Is it something static and immobile,
or is it not rather a relation of forces in continuous motion and shift
of equilibrium ? If one applies one's will to the creation of a new
equilibrium among the forces which really exist and are operative —
basing oneself on the particular force which one believes to be
progressive and strengthening it to help it to victory — one still
moves on the terrain of effective reality, but does so in order to
dominate and transcend it (or to contribute to this). What "ought
to be" is therefore concrete; indeed it is the only realistic and
historicist interpretation of reality, it alone is history in the making
and philosophy in the making, it alone is politics.

The opposition between Savonarola and Machiavelli is not an
opposition between what is and what ought to be (Russo's whole
paragraph on this point is pure belles-lettres),' 13 but one between two

" Gramsci is referring to the article II realismo politico di Francesco Guicciardini, in
Nuova Rivista Storica, November/December 1930. See too "Economic-Corporate
Phase of the State" on p. 173. Guicciardini (1483 1540) was a Florentine diplomat
and historian, a friend of Machiavelli's and often contrasted with him; he was
an altogether more conservative figure. See too note 90 on p. 193.

** Russo, op. cit,, see note 3 on p. 125. He wrote: "Savonarola is pure religion,
Machiavelli science, technique, pure politics." For Savonarola, see note 1 7 on
p. 135-

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173

concepts of what ought to be : the abstract and phantasmagorical
concept of Savonarola, and the realistic concept of Machiavelli —
realistic even if it did not in feet become direct reality, since one
cannot expect an individual or a book to change reality but only
to interpret it and to indicate the possible lines of action. Machiavelli
was limited or narrow only in as much as he was a "private indivi-
dual", a writer, and not the leader of a State or an army; the latter
too is a single individual, but has at his disposal the forces of his
State or army and not merely armies of words. But one cannot
therefore say that Machiavelli himself was a "prophet unarmed"
too: it would be too easy a witticism. Machiavelli never says that
he has any thought or intention of himself changing reality — only
of showing concretely how the historical forces ought to have acted
in order to be effective. [1933-34: 1st version 1931-32.]

ECONOMIC-CORPORATE PHASE OF THE STATE

Guicciardini represents a step backwards in political science with
respect to Machiavelli. This is all that Guicciardini's greater
"pessimism" means. Guicciardini regressed to a purely Italian
political thought, whereas Machiavelli had attained a European
thought. It is impossible to understand Machiavelli without taking
into account the fact that he subsumed Italian experience into
European (in his day synonymous with international) experience:
his "will" would have been Utopian, were it not for the European
experience. The same conception of "human nature" thus becomes
different in the two cases. Machiavelli's "human nature" embraces
"European man", who in France and Spain has effectively trans-
cended the phase of the break-up of feudalism by means of the
system of absolute monarchy: hence the creation of a unitary
absolute monarchy in Italy is prevented not by "human nature"
but by transitory conditions which the will can overcome. Machia-
velli is "pessimistic" (or better realistic) when he regards men, and
the motives of their actions: Guicciardini is not pessimistic, but
sceptical and petty. Paolo Treves* commits a host of errors in his
judgement of Guicciardini and Machiavelli; he does not make a
clear distinction between "politics" and "diplomacy", and it is
precisely this which is the cause of his mistaken evaluations. In
politics, in fact, will has a far greater importance than in diplomacy.
Diplomacy sanctions, and tends to conserve, situations created by

* See I Irealismo politico di Francesco Guicciardini, inNuova Rivista Storica, November/
December 1930.

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the clash of policies of different States; it is only creative meta-
phorically, or by philosophical convention ("all human activity is
creative"). International relations deal with a balance of forces in
which any single State component has only a very limited weight.
Florence, for instance, might have had a certain weight if it had
become stronger; but such a growth of its strength, even if it had
improved its position in the Italian and European balance of forces,
certainly could not have been thought of as decisive for a wholesale
transformation of the balance itself. Therefore diplomacy, through
the very habits of the profession, tends to scepticism and to con-
servative narrowness of mind.

In the internal relations of a State, the situation is incomparably
more favourable to central initiative, to what Machiavelli under-
stood as a will to command. De Sanctis' judgement of Guicciardini
is far more realistic than Treves thinks. 74 It should be asked why
De Sanctis was better prepared than Treves to provide this
historically and scientifically more accurate judgement. De Sanctis
participated in a creative moment of Italian political history, a
moment in which the effectiveness of the political will — turned to
awakening new and original forces rather than merely to calculating
on the traditional ones, which were seen as incapable of being
developed and reorganised (Guicciardinesque political scepticism) —
had revealed all its potentiality not only in the art of founding a
State from within, but also in that of mastering international
relations, rejuvenating the professional and customary methods of
diplomacy (with Cavour). The cultural atmosphere was propitious
to a more comprehensively realistic conception of the science and
art of politics. But, supposing there had not been this atmosphere,
would it have been impossible for De Sanctis to understand Machia-
velli ? The atmosphere provided by the historical moment enriches
De Sanctis' essays with a sentimental pathos which renders the
argument more sympathetic and moving, the scientific exposition
more artistically expressive and captivating; but the logical,
political-scientific content could have been thought out even in
periods of blackest reaction. Is not reaction too perhaps a constructive
act of will? And is not conservation a deliberate act? Why then
should Machiavelli's will be "Utopian", and why revolutionary and
not Utopian the will of someone who wants to conserve what exists,
and to prevent the creation and organisation of new forces which
would disturb and transform the traditional equilibrium? Political

De Sanctis condemned Guicciardini's "egoism" see note go on p. 19,3.

THE MODERN PRINCE 175

science abstracts the element "will", and does not take account of
the end to which a particular will is applied. The attribute ' 'utopian"
does not apply to political will in general, but to specific wills which
are incapable of relating means to end, and hence are not even
wills, but idle whims, dreams, longings, etc.

Guicciardini's scepticism (not pessimism of the intelligence, which
can be combined with an optimism of the will in active and realistic
politicians) 76 has other sources: i. diplomatic habit: i.e. the habit
of a subordinate, subaltern activity (executive-bureaucratic) which
has to accept a will (the political will of the diplomat's government
or sovereign) which is extraneous to the diplomat's individual
convictions. (He may, it is true, feel it as his own, in so far as it is
in line with his own convictions: but he may also not do so. The
fact that diplomacy has of necessity become a specialised profession
has led to this consequence, of allowing the diplomat to become
independent of the policies of changing governments, etc.). The
result is scepticism and, in scientific discussion, extra-scientific
prejudices; 2. the actual convictions of Guicciardini, who, in the
general context of Italian politics, was a conservative, and hence
theorises his own opinions, his own political position, etc.

Guicciardini's writings are more of a period piece than they are
political science, and that is De Sanctis' judgement. Just as Paolo
Treves' work too is more of a period piece than it is history of
political science. [1930-32]

ANALYSIS OF SITUATIONS. RELATIONS OF FORCE

The study of how "situations" should be analysed, in other words
how to establish the various levels of the relations of force, offers an
opportunity for an elementary exposition of the science and art of
politics — understood as a body of practical rules for research and of
detailed observations useful for awakening an interest in effective
reality and for stimulating more rigorous and more vigorous

75 See PP. p. 6 : "On daydreams and fantasies. They show lack of character
and passivity. One imagines that something has happened to upset the mechanism
of necessity. One's own initiative has become free. Everything is easy. One can
do whatever one wants, and one wants a whole series of things which at present
one lacks. It is basically the present turned on its head which is projected into the
future. Everything repressed is unleashed. On the contrary, it is necessary to
direct one's attention violently towards the present as it is, if one wishes to trans-
form it. Pessimism of the intelligence, optimism of the will." [1932] Romain
Rolland's maxim "Pessimism of the intelligence, optimism of the will" was made
by Gramsci into something of a programmatic slogan as early as 1919, in the pages
of Ordine Nuovo.

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political insights. This should be accompanied by the explanation
of what is meant in politics by strategy and tactics, by strategic
"plan", by propaganda and agitation, by command structure 76 or
science of political organisation and administration.

The elements of empirical observation which are habitually
included higgledy-piggledy in works of political science (G. Mosca's
Elementi di scienza politico may be taken as typical) ought, in so far
as they are not abstract and illusory, to be inserted into the context
of the relations of force, on one level or another. These levels range
from the relations between international forces (one would insert
here the notes written on what a great power is, on the combinations
of States in hegemonic systems, and hence on the concept of inde-
pendence and sovereignty as far as small and medium powers are
concerned) 77 to the objective relations within society — in other
words, the degree of development of productive forces ; to relations
of political force and those between parties (hegemonic systems
within the State) ; and to immediate (or potentially military) political
relations.

Do international relations precede or follow (logically) funda-
mental social relations? There can be no doubt that they follow.
Any organic innovation in the social structure, through its technical-
military expressions, modifies organically absolute and relative
relations in the international field too. Even the geographical
position of a national State does not precede but follows (logically)
structural changes, although it also reacts back upon them to a
certain extent (to the extent precisely to which superstructures react
upon the structure, politics on economics, etc.). However, inter-
national relations react both passively and actively on political
relations (of hegemony among the parties). The more the immediate
economic life of a nation is subordinated to international relations,
the more a particular party will come to represent this situation
and to exploit it, with the aim of preventing rival parties gaining
the upper hand (recall Nitti's famous speech on the technical im-
possibility of revolution in Italy). From this series of facts one may
conclude that often the so-called "foreigner's party" 78 is not really

" Organica has no exact equivalent in English it means the organisation of
armed forces, their division into different arms and corps, theirsystem of ranks, etc.
" See NM. pp. 141 and 167 fF.

'* Term used especially of communist parties by the nationalist Right, and, in
an earlier period, of parties influenced by the ideas of the French Revolution.
The latter Mazzini's Action Party is a good example — did in fact often have
links with liberals in other countries.

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177

the one which is commonly so termed, but precisely the most
nationalistic party — which, in reality, represents not so much the
vital forces of its own country, as that country's subordination and
economic enslavement to the hegemonic nations or to certain of
their number.* [1933-34: 1st version 1931-32.]

It is the problem of the relations between structure and super-
structure which must be accurately posed and resolved if the forces
which are active in the history of a particular period are to be
correctly analysed, and the relation between them determined. Two
principles must orient the discussion: 1. that no society sets itself
tasks for whose accomplishment the necessary and sufficient con-
ditions do not either already exist or are not at least beginning to
emerge and develop; 2. that no society breaks down and can be
replaced until it has first developed all the forms of life which are
implicit in its internal relations.** From a reflection on these two
principles, one can move on to develop a whole series of further
principles of historical methodology. Meanwhile, in studying a
structure, it is necessary to distinguish organic movements (relatively-
permanent) from movements which may be termed "conjuncturaP'
(and which appear as occasional, immediate, almost accidental). 79
Conjunctural phenomena too depend on organic movements to be
sure, but they do not have any very far-reaching historical sig-
nificance; they give rise to political criticism of a minor, day-to-day-
character, which has as its subject top political leaders and person-
alities with direct governmental responsibilities. Organic phenomena

* An allusion to this international element which "represses" domestic energies
can be found in G. Volpe's articles published in Corriere della Sera, on 22 and 23
March 1932.

** "No social order ever perishes before all the productive forces for which
there is room in it have developed; and new, higher relations of production never
appear before the material conditions for their existence have matured in the
womb of the old society. Therefore mankind always sets itself only such tasks as
it can solve; since, looking at the matter more closely, it will always be found that
the task itself arises only when the material conditions for its solution already
exist or are at least in the process of formation." Marx, Preface to the Critique of
Political Economy.

79 On PP. pp. 148-49 Gramsci wrote: "The conjuncture can be defined as the
set of circumstances which determine the market in a given phase, provided that
these are conceived of as being in movement, i.e. as constituting a process of
ever-changing combinations, a process which is the economic cycle ... In Italian
the meaning of 'favourable or unfavourable economic situation {occasions)' remains
attached to the word 'conjuncture'. Difference between 'situation' and 'con-
juncture' : the conjuncture is the set of immediate and ephemeral characteristics
of the economic situation . . . Study of the conjuncture is thus more closely linked
to immediate politics, to 'tactics' and agitation, while the 'situation' relates to
'strategy' and propaganda, etc."

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on the other hand give rise to socio-historical criticism, whose
subject is wider social groupings — beyond the public figures and
beyond the top leaders. When an historical period comes to be
studied, the great importance of this distinction becomes clear. A
crisis occurs, sometimes lasting for decades. This exceptional
duration means that incurable structural contradictions have
revealed themselves (reached maturity), and that, despite this, the
political forces which are struggling to conserve and defend the
existing structure itself are making every effort to cure them,
within certain limits, and to overcome them. These incessant and
persistent efforts (since no social formation will ever admit that it
has been superseded) form the terrain of the "conjunctural", and
it is upon this terrain that the forces of opposition organise. These
forces seek to demonstrate that the necessary and sufficient con-
ditions already exist to make possible, and hence imperative, the
accomplishment of certain historical tasks (imperative, because any
falling short before an historical duty increases the necessary
disorder, and prepares more serious catastrophes). (The demon-
stration in the last analysis only succeeds and is "true" if it becomes
a new reality, if the forces of opposition triumph ; in the immediate,
it is developed in a series of ideological, religious, philosophical,
political, and juridical polemics, whose concreteness can be estimated
by the extent to which they are convincing, and shift the previously
existing disposition of social forces.)

A common error in historico-political analysis consists in an
inability to find the correct relation between what is organic and
what is conjunctural. This leads to presenting causes as immediately
operative which in fact only operate indirectly, or to asserting that
the immediate causes are the only effective ones. In the first case
there is an excess of "cconomism", or doctrinaire pedantry; in the
second, an excess of "ideologism". In the first case there is an
overestimation of mechanical causes, in the second an exaggeration
of the voluntarist and individual element. The distinction between
organic "movements" and facts and "conjunctural" or occasional
ones must be applied to all types of situation; not only to those in
which a regressive development or an acute crisis takes place, but
also to those in which there is a progressive development or one
towards prosperity, or in which the productive forces are stagnant.
The dialectical nexus between the two categories of movement, and
therefore of research, is hard to establish precisely. Moreover, if
error is serious in historiography, it becomes still more serious in
the art of politics, when it is not the reconstruction of past history

THE MODERN PRINCE

179

but the construction of present and future history which is at stake.*
One's own baser and more immediate desires and passions are the
cause of error, in that they take the place of an objective and
impartial analysis — and this happens not as a conscious "means"
to stimulate to action, but as self-deception. In this case too the
snake bites the snake-charmer — in other words the demagogue is
the first victim of his own demagogy.

These methodological criteria will acquire visibly and didactically
their full significance if they are applied to the examination of
concrete historical facts. This might usefully be done for the events
which took place in France from 1789 to 1870. It seems to me that
for greater clarity of exposition it is precisely necessary to take in
the whole of this period. In fact, it was only in 1870-71, with the
attempt of the Commune, that all the germs of 1 789 were finally
historically exhausted. It was then that the new bourgeois class
struggling for power defeated not only the representatives of the
old society unwilling to admit that it had been definitively super-
seded, but also the still newer groups who maintained that the new
structure created by the 1 789 revolution was itself already outdated;
by this victory the bourgeoisie demonstrated its vitality vis-d-vis
both the old and the very new.

Furthermore, it was in 1870-71 that the body of principles of
political strategy and tactics engendered in practice in 1 789, and
developed ideologically around '48, lost their efficacy. (I am referring
to those which can be resumed in the formula of "Permanent
Revolution"; it would be interesting to study how much of this
formula passed into Mazzini's strategy — for example, in the Milan
insurrection of 1853 — and whether this happened consciously or
not.) One piece of evidence for the correctness of this point of view
is the fact that historians are by no means of one mind (and it is
impossible that they should be) in fixing the limits of the group

* Failure to consider the immediate moment of "relations of force" is linked to
residues of the vulgar liberal conception of which syndicalism is a manifestation
which thought itself more advanced when in reality it was taking a step backward.
In fact the vulgar liberal conception, stressing relations between political forces
organised in the various forms of party (newspaper readerships, parliamentary
and local elections, the mass organisations of parties and trade unions in the
strict sense), was more advanced than syndicalism, which gave primordial
importance to the fundamental socio-economic relation and only to that. The
vulgar liberal conception took implicit account of this socio-economic relation
too (as many signs clearly indicate), but it insisted besides on the relation of
political forces which was an expression of the former and in reality contained
it. These residues of the vulgar liberal conception can be traced in a whole
series of works purporting to be connected with the philosophy of praxis, and have
given rise to infantile forms of optimism and folly.

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of events which constitutes the French Revolution. For some
(Salvemini, for instance) the Revolution was complete at Valmy:
France had created its new State and had shown itself capable of
organising the politico-military force necessary to assert and to
defend its territorial sovereignty. For others the Revolution con-
tinues until Thermidor — indeed they speak of various revolutions
(10 August 80 is a separate revolution, etc.).* The interpretation of
Thermidor and of the work of Napoleon provokes the sharpest
disagreements. Was it revolution or counter-revolution? For others
the history of the Revolution continues until 1830, 1848, 1870 and
even until the World War of 191 4. All these views are partially
true. In reality the internal contradictions which develop after 1 789
in the structure of French society are resolved to a relative degree
only with the Third Republic; and France has now enjoyed sixty
years of stable political life only after eighty years of convulsions
at ever longer intervals: 1789, 1794, 1799) 1804, 1815, 1830, 1848,
1870. It is precisely the study of these "intervals" of varying frequency
which enables one to reconstruct the relations on the one hand
between structure and superstructure, and on the other between
the development of organic movement and conjunctural movement
in the structure. One might say in the meantime that the dialectical
mediation between the two methodological principles formulated at
the beginning of this note is to be found in the historico-political
formula of Permanent Revolution.

The question of so-called relations of force is an aspect of the
same problem. One often reads in historical narratives the generic
expression: "relation of forces favourable, or unfavourable, to this
or that tendency". Thus, abstractly, this formulation explains
nothing, or almost nothing — since it merely repeats twice over the
fact which needs to be explained, once as a fact and once as an
abstract law and an explanation. The theoretical error consists
therefore in making what is a principle of research and interpretation
into an "historical cause".

Meanwhile, in the "relation of forces" various moments or levels
must be distinguished, and they are fundamentally the following:

1 . A relation of social forces which is closely linked to the structure,
objective, independent of human will, and which can be measured
with the systems of the exact or physical sciences. The level of
development of the material forces of production provides a basis
for the emergence of the various social classes, each one of which

*° On 10 August 1792 the Tuileries Palace was stormed and the Monarchy fell.
* See La Revolution fraTyaise by A. Mathiez, in the A. Colin series.

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181

represents a function and has a specific position within production
itself. This relation is what it is, a refractory reality: nobody can
alter the number of firms or their employees, the number of cities
or the given urban population, etc. By studying these fundamental
data it is possible to discover whether in a particular society there
exist the necessary and sufficient conditions for its transformation —
in other words, to check the degree of realism and practicability of
the various ideologies which have been born on its own terrain, on
the terrain of the contradictions which it has engendered during
the course of its development.

2. A subsequent moment is the relation of political forces; in
other words, an evaluation of the degree of homogeneity, self-
awareness, and organisation attained by the various social classes.
This moment can in its turn be analysed and differentiated into
various levels, corresponding to the various moments of collective
political consciousness, as they have manifested themselves in
history up till now. The first and most elementary of these is the
economic-corporate level: a tradesman feels obliged to stand by
another tradesman, a manufacturer by another manufacturer, etc.,
but the tradesman does not yet feel solidarity with the manu-
facturer; in other words, the members of the professional group are
conscious of its unity and homogeneity, and of the need to organise
it, but in the case of the wider social group this is not yet so. A
second moment is that in which consciousness is reached of the
solidarity of interests among all the members of a social class — but
still in the purely economic field. Already at this juncture the
problem of the State is posed — but only in terms of winning politico-
juridical equality with the ruling groups: the right is claimed to
participate in legislation and administration, even to reform these —
but within the existing fundamental structures. A third moment is
that in which one becomes aware that one's own corporate interests,
in their present and future development, transcend the corporate
limits of the purely economic class, and can and must become the
interests of other subordinate groups too. This is the most purely
political phase, and marks the decisive passage from the structure
to the sphere of the complex superstructures; it is the phase in
which previously germinated ideologies become "party", come into
confrontation and conflict, until only one of them, or at least a
single combination of them, tends to prevail, to gain the upper
hand, to propagate itself throughout society — bringing about not
only a unison of economic and political aims, but also intellectual
and moral unity, posing all the questions around which the struggle

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rages not on a corporate but on a "universal" plane, and thus
creating the hegemony of a fundamental social group over a series
of subordinate groups. It is true that the State is seen as the organ
of one particular group, destined to create favourable conditions for
the latter's maximum expansion. But the development and expansion
of the particular group are conceived of, and presented, as being the
motor force of a universal expansion, of a development of all the
"national" energies. In other words, the dominant group is coordin-
ated concretely with the general interests of the subordinate groups,
and the life of the State is conceived of as a continuous process of
formation and superseding of unstable equilibria (on the juridical
plane) between the interests of the fundamental group and those of
the subordinate groups — equilibria in which the interests of the
dominant group prevail, but only up to a certain point, i.e. stopping
short of narrowly corporate economic interest.

In real history these moments imply each other reciprocally —
horizontally and vertically, so to speak — i.e. according to socio-
economic activity (horizontally) and to country (vertically),
combining and diverging in various ways. Each of these com-
binations may be represented by its own organised economic and
political expression. It is also necessary to take into account the
fact that international relations intertwine with these internal
relations of nation-states, creating new, unique and historically
concrete combinations. A particular ideology, for instance, born in
a highly developed country, is disseminated in less developed
countries, impinging on the local interplay of combinations.* This
relation between international forces and national forces is further
complicated by the existence within every State of several structur-
ally diverse territorial sectors, with diverse relations of force at all
levels (thus the Vendee 81 was allied with the forces of international
reaction, and represented them in the heart of French territorial
unity; similarly Lyons in the French Revolution represented a
particular knot of relations, etc.).

* Religion, for example, has always been a source of such national and inter-
national ideological-political combinations, and so too have the other international
organisations Freemasonry, Rotarianism, the Jews, career diplomacy. These
propose political solutions of diverse historical origin, and assist their victory in
particular countries — functioning as international political parties which operate
within each nation with the full concentration of the international forces. A
religion, freemasonry, Rotary, Jews, etc., can be subsumed into the social category
of "intellectuals", whose function, on an international scale, is that of mediating
the extremes, of "socialising" the technical discoveries which provide the impetus
for all activities of leadership, of devising compromises between, and ways out of,
extreme solutions. si See note 47 on p. 79.

THE MODERN PRINCE

3. The third moment is that of the relation of military forces,
which from time to time is directly decisive. (Historical development
oscillates continually between the first and the third moment, with
the mediation of the second.) But this too is not undifferentiated,
nor is it susceptible to immediate schematic definition. Here too,
two levels can be distinguished: the military level in the strict or
technical military sense, and the level which may be termed politico-
military. In the course of history these two levels have appeared in
a great variety of combinations. A typical example, which can
serve as a limiting case, is the relation involved in a State's military
oppression of a nation seeking to attain its national independence.
The relation is not purely military, but politico-military; indeed
this type of oppression would be inexplicable if it were not for the
state of social disintegration of the oppressed people, and the
passivity of the majority among them ; consequently independence
cannot be won with purely military forces, it requires both military
and politico-military. If the oppressed nation, in fact, before
embarking on its struggle for independence, had to wait until the
hegemonic State allowed it to organise its own army in the strict
and technical sense of the word, it would have to wait quite a while.
(It may happen that the claim to have its own army is conceded
by the hegemonic nation, but this only means that a great part of
the struggle has already been fought and won on the politico-
military terrain.) The oppressed nation will therefore initially
oppose the dominant military force with a force which is only
"politico-military", that is to say a form of political action which
has the virtue of provoking repercussions of a military character in
the sense: 1. that it has the capacity to destroy the war potential of
the dominant nation from within; 2. that it compels the dominant
military force to thin out and disperse itself over a large territory,
thus nullifying a great part of its war potential. In the Italian
Risorgimento the disastrous absence of politico-military leadership
may be noted, especially in the Action Party (through congenital
incapacity), but also in the Piedmontese Moderate Party, both
before and after 1848, not to be sure through incapacity but
through "politico-economic Malthusianism" — in other words,
because they were unwilling even to hint at the possibility of an
agrarian reform, and because they had no desire to see a national
constituent assembly convoked, but merely waited for the Piedmont
monarchy, free from any conditions or limitations of popular origin,
to extend its rule to the whole of Italy — sanctioned only by regional
plebiscites.

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A further question connected with the foregoing is whether the
fundamental historical crises are directly determined by economic
crises. The answer is contained implicitly in the foregoing para-
graphs, where problems have been considered which are only
another way of presenting the one now under consideration.
Nevertheless it is still necessary, for didactic reasons, given the
particular public which is being aimed at, to examine each of the
ways in which a single question may present itself as if it were a
new and independent problem. It may be ruled out that immediate
economic crises of themselves produce fundamental historical events;
they can simply create a terrain more favourable to the dissemina-
tion of certain modes of thought, and certain ways of posing and
resolving questions involving the entire subsequent development of
national life. Moreover, all assertions concerning periods of crisis
or of prosperity may give rise to unilateral judgements. In his
historical outline of the French Revolution, Mathiez, in opposition
to the vulgar traditional history which aprioristically "discovers" a
crisis coinciding with every major rupture of social equilibrium,
asserts that towards 1789 the economic situation was in an imme-
diate sense rather good, so that it cannot be said that the downfall
of the absolute State was due to a crisis of impoverishment. It
should be observed that the State was in the throes of a mortal
financial crisis and considering which of the privileged social orders
would have to bear the sacrifices and burdens necessary for the
State and Royal finances to be put back in order. Furthermore, if
the economic position of the bourgeoisie was nourishing, the
situation of the popular classes was certainly not good either in the
towns or, especially, on the land — where they suffered from endemic
poverty. In any case, the rupture of the equilibrium of forces did
not occur as the result of direct mechanical causes — i.e. the im-
poverishment of the social group which had an interest in breaking
the equilibrium, and which did in fact break it. It occurred in the
context of conflicts on a higher plane than the immediate world of
the economy; conflicts related to class "prestige" (future economic
interests), and to an inflammation of sentiments of independence,
autonomy and power. The specific question of economic hardship
or well-being as a cause of new historical realities is a partial aspect
of the question of the relations of force, at the various levels.
Changes can come about either because a situation of well-being
is threatened by the narrow self-interest of a rival class, or because
hardship has become intolerable and no force is visible in the old
society capable of mitigating it and of re-establishing normality by

THE MODERN PRINCE 1 85

legal means. Hence it may be said that all these elements are the
concrete manifestation of the conjunctural fluctuations of the totality
of social relations of force, on whose terrain the passage takes place
from the latter to political relations of force, and finally to the
military relation which is decisive.

If this process of development from one moment to the next is
missing — and it is essentially a process which has as its actors men
and their will and capability — the situation is not taken advantage
of, and contradictory outcomes are possible : either the old society
resists and ensures itself a breathing-space, by physically exter-
minating the elite of the rival class and terrorising its mass reserves ;
or a reciprocal destruction of the conflicting forces occurs, and a
peace of the graveyard is established, perhaps even under the
surveillance of a foreign guard. [1933-34: 1st version 1930—32.]

But the most important observation to be made about any
concrete analysis of the relations of force is the following: that such
analyses cannot and must not be ends in themselves (unless the
intention is merely to write a chapter of past history) , but acquire
significance only if they serve to justify a particular practical activity,
or initiative of will. They reveal the points of least resistance, at
which the force of will can be most fruitfully applied ; they suggest
immediate tactical operations; they indicate how a campaign of
political agitation may best be launched, what language will best
be understood by the masses, etc. The decisive element in every
situation is the permanently organised and long-prepared force
which can be put into the field when it is judged that a situation is
favourable (and it can be favourable only in so far as such a force
exists, and is full of fighting spirit). Therefore the essential task is
that of systematically and patiently ensuring that this force is
formed, developed, and rendered ever more homogeneous, compact,
and self-aware. This is clear from military history, and from the
care with which in every period armies have been prepared in
advance to be able to make war at any moment. The great Powers
have been great precisely because they were at all times prepared
to intervene effectively in favourable international conjunctures —
which were precisely favourable because there was the concrete
possibility of effectively intervening in them. [1933-34: 1st version

ON BUREAUCRACY

i . As political and economic forms develop historically, a new type
of functionary is increasingly being produced — what could be

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described as "career" functionaries, technically trained for bureau-
cratic work (civil and military). This is a fact of prime significance for
political science, and for any history of the forms taken by the State.
Has this process been a necessary one, or, as the "pure" liberals
claim, a degeneration in respect of the ideal of self-government? 82
Certainly every type of society and State has had its own problem
of functionaries, which it has formulated and resolved in its own
way; every society has had its own system of selection, and its own
type of functionary to be trained. The reconstruction of how all
these elements have evolved is of capital importance. The problem
of functionaries partly coincides with that of the intellectuals.
However, though it is true that every new form of society and
State has required a new type of functionary, it is also true that
new ruling groups have never been able, at least initially, to ignore
tradition or established interests — i.e. the categories of functionary
(especially in the ecclesiastical and military spheres) who already
existed and had been constituted before they came to power. Unity
of manual and intellectual work, and closer links between legislative
and executive power (so that elected functionaries concern them-
selves not merely with the control of State affairs but also with their
execution), may be motives of inspiration for a new approach in
solving the problem of the intellectuals as well as the problem of
functionaries.

2. Connected with the question of the bureaucracy and its
"optimum" organisation is the debate about so-called "organic

•* Gramsci gives the English term in parenthesis in his original text. He appears
to mean by it the phenomenon whereby, notably in England, certain functions
elsewhere carried out by the State are devolved onto formally autonomous local
bodies or institutions. On PP. pp. 163-64, in the note "Self-government e burocrazia",
Gramsci writes: "Self -government is an institution or a political and administrative
usage which presupposes quite specific conditions: the existence of a social stratum
which lives off rent, which by tradition is experienced in public affairs, and
enjoys a certain prestige among the popular masses for its rectitude and impartiality
(and also for certain psychological qualities, such as its ability to exercise authority
with dignified firmness, but without haughtiness or arrogant detachment). It is
thus understandable that self-government has only been possible in England,
where the class of landowners, in addition to its condition of economic inde-
pendence, had never been in savage conflict with the population (as happened
in France) and had not had great corporate military traditions (as in Germany),
with the separateness and the authoritarian attitude which derive from these.
Change of meaning of self-government in non-Anglo Saxon countries: struggle
against the centralism of the high government bureaucracy, but institutions
entrusted to a bureaucracy controlled directly from below. Bureaucracy become
necessity: the question must be raised of forming an honest and impartial bureau-
cracy, which does not abuse its function to make itself independent of the control
of the representative system. It can be said that every form of society has its
approach or solution to the problem of bureaucracy, these must inevitably vary."

THE MODERN PRINCE 1 87

centralism" and "democratic centralism" (which despite its name
has nothing to do with abstract democracy, in as much as the
French Revolution and Third Republic developed form of organic
centralism unknown either to the absolute monarchy or to Napoleon
I). 83 One will have to seek out and study the real economic and
political relations which find their organisational form, their
articulation and their functionality in the various manifestations of
organic and democratic centralism in all fields : in State life (unitary
State, federation, union of federated States, federation of States or
federal State, etc.); in interstate life (alliances, various forms of

83 On "organic centralism", see NM. p. 113: "So-called 'organic centralism'
is based on the principle that a political group is selected by 'cooptation' around an
'infallible bearer of truth', one who is 'enlightened by reason', who has found the
infallible natural laws of historical evolution, infallible even if only in the long
term, and if present events 'seem' to disprove them." And NM. pp. 157 58:
"A collective organism is made up of single individuals, who form the organism
in as much as they have given themselves, and actively accept, a particular
hierarchy and leadership. If each of the individual members sees the collective
organism as an entity external to himself, it is evident that this organism no longer
in fact exists, it becomes a phantasm of the mind, a fetish . . . What is astonishing,
and typical, is that fetishism of this kind occurs too in 'voluntary' organisms, not
of a 'public' or State character, like parties and trade unions. The tendency is to
see the relationship between the individual and the organism as a dualism; it is
towards an external, critical attitude of the individual towards the organism (if
the attitude does not consist of an enthusiastic, acritical admiration). In any case
a fetishistic relationship. The individual expects the organism to act, even if he
does not do anything himself, and does not reflect that precisely because his
attitude is very widespread, the organism is necessarily inoperative. Furthermore,
it should be recognised that, since a deterministic and mechanical conception of
history is very widespread (a common-sense conception which is related to the
passivity of the great popular masses), each individual, seeing that despite his
non-intervention something still does happen, tends to think that there indeed
exists, over and above individuals, a phantasmagorical being, the abstraction of the
collective organism, a kind of autonomous divinity, which does not think with any
concrete brain but still thinks, which does not move with specific human legs
but still moves, etc.

"It might seem that certain ideologies, such as that of present-day idealism (Ugo
Spirito's), which identify the individual and the State, ought to re-educate the
individual consciousness ; but it does not seem that this in fact happens, because
this identification is merely verbal and verbalistic. The same can be said of every
form of so-called 'organic centralism', which is based on the presupposition — true
only at exceptional moments, when popular passions are aflame — that the relation-
ship between ruler and ruled is determined by the fact that the rulers satisfy the
interests of the ruled and thus 'must' have their consent, i.e. the individual must
identify with the whole — which (whatever the organism involved) is represented
by the rulers." See too PP. pp. 65-66. It should also be noted that Bordiga and
the Left in 1925 26, and notably in their theses for the Congress of Lyons, had
spoken of the need for the Comintern and the individual communist parties to
"realize an organic centralism", and had counterposed this to existing party
practice and in particular to bolshevisation. However, it is clear that Gramsci
uses the concept of "organic centralism" as a general category of political organisa-
tion, as in this passage with reference to the French Revolution and the Third
Republic.

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international political "constellation") ; in the life of political and
cultural associations (Freemasonry, Rotary Club, Catholic Church)
and of trade-union and economic ones (cartels, trusts) ; in the same
country, in different countries, etc.

Polemics from the past (pre- 19 14) on the subject of German
predominance in the life of high culture, and in that of certain
international political forces: was this predominance in fact real,
and in what did it really consist? 84 It may be said: (a) that no
organic or disciplinary bonds ensured this supremacy, which was
therefore merely a phenomenon of abstract cultural influence and
of highly unstable prestige; (b) that such cultural influence in no
way affected real activity, which was on the contrary fragmented,
localised, and without overall direction. Thus one cannot speak of
any kind of centralism here — neither organic nor democratic, nor
of any other kind, nor a mixture of these. The influence was felt
and experienced by a handful of intellectual groups, who had no
links with the popular masses; and it was precisely the absence of
any such links which characterised the situation. Nevertheless, such
a state of affairs is worth studying, since it helps to explain the
process which led to the formulation of the theories of organic
centralism. These are precisely a one-sided and intellectualistic
critique of that disorder and dispersal of forces.

Meanwhile, it is necessary to distinguish among the theories of
organic centralism. One the one hand there are those which conceal
a precise programme of real predominance of one part over the
whole (whether the part consists of a stratum such as the intel-
lectuals, or of a "privileged" territorial group). On the other there
are those which are purely and simply the one-sided perspectives of
sectarians or fanatics, and which, although capable of concealing
a programme of predominance (usually of a single individual, such
as the infallible Pope — whereby Catholicism has become trans-
formed into a sort of cult of the Pope), do not seem in the immediate
consciously to conceal any such programme. The most accurate
name would be bureaucratic centralism. "Organicity" can only be
found in democratic centralism, which is so to speak a "centralism"
in movement — i.e. a continual adaptation of the organisation to the
real movement, a matching of thrusts from below with orders from
above, a continuous insertion of elements thrown up from the
depths of the rank and file into the solid framework of the leadership

84 Presumably a reference to the influence of Hegel and German idealism on the
Italian idealists (Croce and Gentile), and to that of the German Social-Democratic
Party within the Second International.

THE MODERN PRINCE

apparatus which ensures continuity and the regular accumulation
of experience. Democratic centralism is "organic" because on the
one hand it takes account of movement, which is the organic mode
in which historical reality reveals itself, and does not solidify
mechanically into bureaucracy; and because at the same time it
takes account of that which is relatively stable and permanent, or
which at least moves in an easily predictable direction, etc. This
element of stability within the State is embodied in the organic
development of the leading group's central nucleus, just as happens
on a more limited scale within parties. The prevalence of bureau-
cratic centralism in the State indicates that the leading group is
saturated, that it is turning into a narrow clique which tends to
perpetuate its selfish privileges by controlling or even by stifling
the birth of oppositional forces — even if these forces are homogeneous
with the fundamental dominant interests (e.g. in the ultra-protec-
tionist systems struggling against economic liberalism). In parties
which represent socially subaltern classes, the element of stability
is necessary to ensure that hegemony will be exercised not by
privileged groups but by the progressive elements — organically
progressive in relation to other forces which, though related and
allied, are heterogeneous and wavering.

In any case, it needs to be stressed that the unhealthy manifesta-
tions of bureaucratic centralism occurred because of a lack of
initiative and responsibility at the bottom, in other words because
of the political immaturity of the peripheral forces, even when these
were homogeneous with the hegemonic territorial group (pheno-
menon of Piedmontism 86 in the first decades of Italian unity). The
creation of such situations can be extremely damaging and dangerous
in international bodies (League of Nations).

Democratic centralism offers an elastic formula, which can be
embodied in many diverse forms; it comes alive in so far as it is
interpreted and continually adapted to necessity. It consists in the
critical pursuit of what is identical in seeming diversity of form
and on the other hand of what is distinct and even opposed in
apparent uniformity, in order to organise and interconnect closely
that which is similar, but in such a way that the organising and the
interconnecting appear to be a practical and "inductive" necessity,
experimental, and not the result of a rationalistic, deductive,
abstract process — i.e. one typical of pure intellectuals (or pure
asses). This continuous effort to separate out the "international"

85 The transposition of Piedmontese institutions wholesale to the other Italian
regions after the unification of the country.

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and "unitary" element in national and local reality is true concrete
political action, the sole activity productive of historical progress.
It requires an organic unity between theory and practice, between
intellectual strata and popular masses, between rulers and ruled.
The formulae of unity and federation lose a great part of their
significance from this point of view, whereas they retain their sting
in the bureaucratic conception, where in the end there is no unity
but a stagnant swamp, on the surface calm and "mute", and no
federation but a "sack of potatoes", 86 i.e. a mechanical juxta-
position of single "units" without any connection between them.
[ I 933-34= ist version 1932.]

THE THEOREM OF FIXED PROPORTIONS 87

This theorem can usefully be employed to clarify — and to bring
out the general applicability of — many propositions concerning the
science of organisations (the study of the administrative apparatus,
of demographic composition, etc.) and also concerning general
politics (in analyses of situations or of relations of force, in the
problem of the intellectuals, etc.). Of course it must always be borne
in mind that a recourse to the theory of fixed proportions has only
a schematic and metaphoric value. In other words, it cannot be
applied mechanically, since in human collectivities the qualitative
element (or that of the technical and intellectual capacity of the
individual components) is predominant, and this cannot be measured
mathematically. Hence one may say that every human collectivity
has its own specific optimum principle of fixed proportions.

The science of organisations in particular can usefully have
recourse to this theorem, and this becomes apparent in the case of
the army. But every form of society has its own type of army, and
every type of army has its own principle of fixed proportions,
which moreover also changes from one arm of the service or
specialised corps to the next. There is a specific relation between
privates, NCOs, subalterns, junior officers, senior officers, General

86 In The Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte, Marx had written: "Each
individual peasant family is almost self-sufficient; it itself directly produces the
major part of its consumption and thus acquires its means of life more through
exchange with nature than in intercourse with society. A smallholding, a peasant
and his family; alongside them another smallholding, another peasant and another
family. Afew score of these make up a village, and a few score of villages make up a
Department. In this way, the great mass of the French nation is formed by simple
addition of homologous magnitudes, much as potatoes in a sack form a sack of
potatoes." MarxjEngels Selected Works, Moscow 1958, Vol. I, p. 334.

87 See p. 191.

THE MODERN PRINCE

Staff, Combined General Staff, etc. There is a relation between the
various arms and corps among themselves, etc. Each change in a
single part necessitates a new equilibrium with the whole, etc.

The theorem can be seen in application politically in parties,
trade unions or factories. It is also possible to see how each social
group has its own law of fixed proportions, which varies according
to the level of its culture, independence of mind, spirit of initiative
and sense of responsibility, and according to the degree of discipline
of its most backward and peripheral members.

The law of fixed proportions is resumed by Pantaleoni in his
Principles of Pure Economics: 88 "Bodies combine chemically only in
fixed proportions, and any quantity of an element which is in
excess of the quantity required for a combination with other
elements, which are themselves present in the amounts as defined,
remains free; if the quantity of an element is insufficient in relation
to the quantities of the other elements present, the combination
can only take place to the extent to which the quantity of the
element which is present in a smaller quantity than the others
suffices." One might make use of this law metaphorically to under-
stand how a "movement" or current of opinion becomes a party —
i.e. a political force which is effective from the point of view of the
exercise of governmental power: precisely to the extent to which
it possesses (has developed within itself) cadres at the various levels,
and to the extent to which the latter have acquired certain capa-
bilities. The historical "automatism" of certain premisses (the
existence of certain objective conditions) is potentialised politically
by parties and by men of ability: absence or inadequacy (quan-
titative and qualitative) of these neutralises the "automatism"
itself (which anyway is not really automatic) : the premisses exist
abstractly, but the consequences are not realised because the
human factor is missing. Hence parties may be said to have the
task of forming capable leaders; they are the mass function which
selects, develops, and multiplies the leaders which are necessary if
a particular social group (which is a "fixed" quantity, since it can
be established how many members there are of any social group) is
to become articulated, and be transformed from turbulent chaos
into an organically prepared political army. When the total vote
for a particular party oscillates between apparently strange and
arbitrary maximums and minimums in successive elections, whether
at the same level or at different levels (for instance, in pre-Hitler

88 Maffeo Pantaleoni, Principi di economia pura, Milan 1931.

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Germany, elections for the President of the Republic, for the
Reichstag, for the diets of the Lander, for the communal councils,
and so on right down to the factory committees), it may be deduced
that that party's cadres are inadequate both in quantity and
quality, or else in quantity though not in quality (relatively), or
else in quality though not in quantity. A party which wins a lot of
votes in local elections, but fewer in those of greater political
importance, is certainly qualitatively deficient in its central leader-
ship : it possesses numerous, or at any rate sufficient, junior cadres,
but not a General Staff adequate for that country and its position
in the world, etc. [1933-34: 1st version 1932.]

NUMBER AND QUALITY IN REPRESENTATIVE SYSTEMS
OF GOVERNMENT

One of the most banal commonplaces which get repeated against
the elective system of forming State organs is the following: that in
it numbers decide everything, 89 and that the opinions of any idiot
who knows how to write (or in some countries even of an illiterate)
have exactly the same weight in determining the political course of
the State as the opinions of somebody who devotes his best energies
to the State and the nation, etc.* But the fact is that it is not true,
in any sense, that numbers decide everything, nor that the opinions
of all electors are of "exactly" equal weight. Numbers, in this case
too, are simply an instrumental value, giving a measure and a
relation and nothing more. Ajid what then is measured? What is
measured is precisely the effectiveness, and the expansive and
persuasive capacity, of the opinions of a few individuals, the active
minorities, the elites, the avant-gardes, etc. — i.e. their rationality,
historicity or concrete functionality. Which means it is untrue that
all individual opinions have "exactly" equal weight. Ideas and
opinions are not spontaneously "born" in each individual brain:
they have had a centre of formation, of irradiation, of dissemination,
of persuasion — a group of men, or a single individual even, which
has developed them and presented them in the political form of

88 See, for example, Mussolini "The war was 'revolutionary' in the sense that
it liquidated in rivers of blood the century of democracy, the century of number,
of majority, of quantity", in Which way is the world going?, 1922; or again, "Fascism
is against democracy which levels the people down to the largest number, bringing
it down to the level of the majority", in T he Doctrine of Fascism, 1932.

* There are numerous formulations of this, some more felicitous than the one
quoted which is due to Mario de Silva, in Critica Fascista, 15 August 1932. But
the content is always the same.

THE MODERN PRINCE

193

current reality. The counting of "votes" is the final ceremony of a
long process, in which it is precisely those who devote their best
energies to the State and the nation (when such they are) who carry
the greatest weight. If this hypothetical group of worthy men,
notwithstanding the boundless material power which they possess,
do not have the consent of the majority, they must be judged either
as inept, or as not representative of "national" interests — which
cannot help being decisive in inflecting the national will in one
direction rather than in another. "Unfortunately" everyone tends
to confound his own "private interest" 90 with that of the nation,
and hence to find it "dreadful", etc. that it should be the "law of
numbers" which decides; it is better of course to become an elite
by decree. Thus it is not a question of the people who "have the
brains" feeling that they are being reduced to the level of the
lowest illiterate, but rather one of people who think they are the
ones with the brains wanting to take away from the "man in the
street" even that tiniest fraction of power of decision over the
course of national life which he possesses.

These banal assertions have been extended from a critique (of
oligarchic rather than elitist origin) 91 of the parliamentary system
of government (it is strange that it should not be criticised because
the historical rationality of numerical consensus is systematically
falsified by the influence of wealth) to a critique of all representative
systems — even those which are not parliamentary and not fashioned
according to the canons of formal democracy. 92 These assertions
are even less accurate. In these other systems of government, the
people's consent does not end at the moment of voting, quite the
contrary. That consent is presumed to be permanently active; so
much so that those who give it may be considered as "functionaries"
of the State, and elections as a means of voluntary enrolment of
State functionaries of a certain type — a means which in a certain
sense may be related to the idea of self-government (though on a
different level) . Since elections are held on the basis not of vague,
generic programmes, but of programmes of immediate, concrete
work, anyone who gives his consent commits himself to do some-
thing more than the simple, juridical citizen towards their realisa-

,0 The Italian word here is "parliculare", a term used by Guicciardini, who
suggested that the best refuge from the trials of public life was one's own "parti-
culart" or private interest. De Sanctis criticised this "egoism".

81 i.e. of conservative origin (concerned to restrict political power to a traditional
ruling stratum Mosca's "political class"), rather than elitist in the strict sense
of the word (elite = chosen) i.e. meritocratic, Pareto, fascist ideology, etc.)

02 i.e, presumably, Soviets

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tion — i.e. to be a vanguard of active and responsible work. The
"voluntary" element in the whole undertaking could not be stimul-
ated in any other way as far as the broader masses are concerned;
and when these are not made up of amorphous citizens, but of
skilled productive elements, then one can understand the importance
that the demonstration of the vote may have.* [i 933-34]

The proposition that society does not pose itself problems for
whose solution the material preconditions do not already exist. 93
This proposition immediately raises the problem of the formation
of a collective will. In order to analyse critically what the proposition
means, it is necessary to study precisely how permanent collective
wills are formed, and how such wills set themselves concrete short-
term and long-term ends — i.e. a line of collective action. It is a
question of more or less long processes of development, and rarely
of sudden, "synthetic" explosions. Synthetic "explosions" do occur,
but if they are looked at closely it can be seen that they are more
destructive than reconstructive; they remove mechanical and
external obstacles in the way of an indigenous and spontaneous
development. Thus the Sicilian Vespers 94 can be taken as typical.

It would be possible to study concretely the formation of a
collective historical movement, analysing it in all its molecular
phases — a thing which is rarely done, since it would weigh every
treatment down. Instead, currents of opinion are normally taken as
already constituted around a group or a dominant personality.
This is the problem which in modern times is expressed in terms of
the party, or coalition of related parties : how a party is first set
up, how its organisational strength and social influence are developed,
etc. It requires an extremely minute, molecular process of exhaustive
analysis in every detail, the documentation for which is made up
of an endless quantity of books, pamphlets, review and newspaper
articles, conversations and oral debates repeated countless times,
and which in their gigantic aggregation represent this long labour
which gives birth to a collective will with a certain degree of
homogeneity — -with the degree necessary and sufficient to achieve
an action which is coordinated and simultaneous in the time and
the geographical space in which the historical event takes place.

Importance of Utopias and of confused and rationalistic ideologies

* These observations could be developed more amply and organically, stressing
other differences as well between the various types of elective systems, according
to changes in general social and political relations: the relation between elected
and career functionaries, etc.

** See note 98 on p. 106.

" See note 102 on p. 199.

THE MODERN PRINCE 195

in the initial phase of the historical processes whereby collective
wills are formed. Utopias, or abstract rationalism, have the same
importance as old conceptions of the world which developed
historically by the accumulation of successive experience. What
matters is the criticism to which such an ideological complex is
subjected by the first representatives of the new historical phase.
This criticism makes possible a process of differentiation and change
in the relative weight that the elements of the old ideologies used
to possess. What was previously secondary and subordinate, or even
incidental, is now taken to be primary — becomes the nucleus of a
new ideological and theoretical complex. The old collective will
dissolves into its contradictory elements since the subordinate ones
develop socially, etc.

After the formation of the party system — an historical phase
linked to the standardisation of broad masses of the population
(communications, newspapers, big cities, etc.) — the molecular
processes take place more swiftly than in the past, etc. [1931-32]

CONTINUITY AND TRADITION

An aspect of the question alluded to elsewhere of "Dilettantism
and Discipline", 85 from the point of view of the organising centre
of a grouping is that of the "continuity" which tends to create a
"tradition" — understood of course in an active and not a passive
sense: as continuity in continuous development, but "organic
development". This problem contains in a nutshell the entire
"juridical problem", i.e. the problem of assimilating the entire
grouping to its most advanced fraction; it is a problem of education
of the masses, of their "adaptation" in accordance with the require-
ments of the goal to be achieved. This is precisely the function of
law in the State and in society; through "law" the State renders
the ruling group "homogeneous", and tends to create a social
conformism which is useful to the ruling group's line of development.
The general activity of law (which is wider than purely State and
governmental activity and also includes the activity involved in
directing civil society, in those zones which the technicians of law
call legally neutral — i.e. in morality and in custom generally)
serves to understand the ethical problem better, in a concrete sense.
In practice, this problem is the correspondence "spontaneously and
freely accepted" between the acts and the admissions of each indivi-

See Int., pp. 139-41.

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dual, between the conduct of each individual and the ends which
society sets itself as necessary — a correspondence which is coercive
in the sphere of positive law technically understood, and is spon-
taneous and free (more strictly ethical) in those zones in which
"coercion" is not a State affair but is effected by public opinion,
moral climate, etc. The "juridical" continuity of the organised
centre must be not of a Byzantine/Napoleonic type, i.e. according
to a code conceived of as perpetual, but Roman/Anglo-Saxon —
that is to say, a type whose essential characteristic consists in its
method, which is realistic and always keeps close to concrete life
in perpetual development. This organic continuity requires a good
archive, well stocked and easy to use, in which all past activity can
be reviewed and "criticised". The most important manifestations of
this activity are not so much "organic decisions" as explicative and
reasoned (educative) circulars.

There is a danger of becoming "bureaucratised", it is true; but
every organic continuity presents this danger, which must be
watched. The danger of discontinuity, of improvisation, is still
greater. Organ: the "Bulletin", which has three principal sections:
i. directive articles; 2. decisions and circulars; 3. criticism of the
past, i.e. continual reference back from the present to the past, to
show the differentiations and the specifications, and to justify them
critically. [1930-32]

SPONTANEITY AND CONSCIOUS LEADERSHIP

The term "spontaneity" can be variously defined, for the pheno-
menon to which it refers is many-sided. Meanwhile it must be
stressed that "pure" spontaneity does not exist in history: it would
come to the same thing as "pure" mechanicity. In the "most
spontaneous" movement it is simply the case that the elements of
"conscious leadership" cannot be checked, have left no reliable
document. It may be said that spontaneity is therefore characteristic
of the "history of the subaltern classes", and indeed of their most
marginal and peripheral elements; these have not achieved any
consciousness of the class "for itself", and consequently it never
occurs to them that their history might have some possible import-
ance, that there might be some value in leaving documentary
evidence of it.

Hence in such movements there exist multiple elements of
"conscious leadership", but no one of them is predominant or
transcends the level of a given social stratum's "popular science" —

THE MODERN PRINCE 197

its "common sense" or traditional conception of the world. 96 This
is precisely what De Man, 97 empirically, counterposes to Marxism;
but he does not realise (apparently) that he is falling into the
position of somebody who, after describing folklore, witchcraft, etc.,
and showing that these conceptions have sturdy historical roots and
are tenaciously entwined in the psychology of specific popular
strata, believed that he had "transcended" modern science — taking
as "modern science" every little article in the popular scientific
journals and periodicals. This is a real case of intellectual teratology,
of which there are other examples: precisely, the admirers of
folklore, who advocate its preservation; the "magicalists" connected
with Maeterlinck, who believe it is necessary to take up anew the
thread — snapped by violence — of alchemy and witchcraft, so that
science may be put back onto a course more fertile in discoveries,
etc. However, De Man does have one incidental merit : he demon-
strates the need to study and develop the elements of popular
psychology, historically and sociologically, actively (i.e. in order to
transform them, by educating them, into a modern mentality) and
descriptively as he does. But this need was at least implicit (perhaps
even explicitly stated) in the doctrine of Hitch [Lenin] — something
of which De Man is entirely ignorant. The fact that every "spon-
taneous" movement contains rudimentary elements of conscious
leadership, of discipline, is indirectly demonstrated by the fact that
there exist tendencies and groups who extol spontaneity as a
method. Here one must distinguish between the realm of pure
"ideology" and that of practical action, between scholars who
argue that spontaneity is the immanent and objective "method" of
the historical process, and political adventurers who argue for it
as a "political" method. With the former it is a question of a
mistaken conception, whereas with the latter what is involved is an
immediate and vulgar contradiction which betrays its manifest
practical origin — i.e. the immediate desire to replace a given leader-
ship by a different one. Even in the case of the scholars the error
does have a practical origin, but it is not an immediate one as in
the latter case. The apoliticism of the French syndicalists before
the war contained both these elements: there was a theoretical
error and a contradiction (there was the "Sorelian" element, and
the elements of rivalry between the anarcho-syndicalist political
tendency and that of the socialists). That apoliticism was still a

" See introduction to "The Study of Philosophy", on pp. 321 22 below. Also
the essays in the section "On Education" pp. 26 43.
" See note 56 on p. 160.

GRAMSCi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

consequence of the terrible events of 1871 in Paris: the continuation,
with new methods and a brilliant theory, of the thirty years of
passivity (1870- 1900) of the French working class. The purely
"economic" struggle was not to the distaste of the ruling class — on
the contrary. The same may be said of the Catalan movement, 88
which if it "displeased" the Spanish ruling class did so only because
it objectively reinforced Catalan republican separatism, producing
a real republican industrial bloc against the latifundists, the petite
bourgeoisie and the royal army. The Turin movement was accused
simultaneously of being "spontaneist" and "voluntarist" or Berg-
sonian." This contradictory accusation, if one analyses it, only
testifies to the fact that the leadership given to the movement was
both creative and correct. This leadership was not "abstract"; it
neither consisted in mechanically repeating scientific or theoretical
formulae, nor did it confuse politics, real action, with theoretical
disquisition. It applied itself to real men, formed in specific historical
relations, with specific feelings, outlooks, fragmentary conceptions
of the world, etc., which were the result of "spontaneous" com-
binations of a given situation of material production with the
"fortuitous" agglomeration within it of disparate social elements.
This element of "spontaneity" was not neglected and even less
despised. It was educated, directed, purged of extraneous con-
taminations; the aim was to bring it into line with modern theory 100
— but in a living and historically effective manner. The leaders
themselves spoke of the "spontaneity" of the movement, and
rightly so. This assertion was a stimulus, a tonic, an element of
unification in depth; above all it denied that the movement was
arbitrary, a cooked-up venture, and stressed its historical necessity.
It gave the masses a "theoretical" consciousness of being creators
of historical and institutional values, of being founders of a State.
This unity between "spontaneity" and "conscious leadership" or
"discipline" is precisely the real political action of the subaltern
classes, in so far as this is mass politics and not merely an adventure
by groups claiming to represent the masses.

At this point, a fundamental theoretical question is raised: can
modern theory be in opposition to the "spontaneous" feelings of
the masses? ("Spontaneous" in the sense that they are not the
result of any systematic educational activity on the part of an already

*' i.e. the syndicalist struggle in Barcelona between 1916 and 1923.

For Trozzi's accusation, subsequently often repeated, that Gramsci and the
Ordine. Nuovo group were "Bergsonian", see note 28 on p. 343.
100 i.e. Marxism.

THE MODERN PRINCE 199

conscious leading group, but have been formed through everyday
experience illuminated by "common sense", i.e. by the traditional
popular conception of the world — what is unimaginatively called
"instinct", although it too is in fact a primitive and elementary
historical acquisition.) It cannot be in opposition to them. Between
the two there is a "quantitative" difference of degree, not one of
quality. A reciprocal "reduction" so to speak, a passage from one
to the other and vice versa, must be possible. (Recall that Immanuel
Kant believed it important for his philosophical theories to agree
with common sense; the same position can be found in Croce.
Recall too Marx's assertion in The Holy Family that the political
formulae of the French Revolution can be reduced to the principles
of classical German philosophy.-) 101 Neglecting, or worse still
despising, so-called "spontaneous" movements, i.e. failing to give
them a conscious leadership or to raise them to a higher plane by
inserting them into politics, may often have extremely serious
consequences. It is almost always the case that a "spontaneous"
movement of the subaltern classes is accompanied by a reactionary
movement of the right-wing of the dominant class, for concomitant
reasons. An economic crisis, for instance, engenders on the one
hand discontent among the subaltern classes and spontaneous mass
movements, and on the other conspiracies among the reactionary
groups, who take advantage of the objective weakening of the
government in order to attempt coups d'etat. Among the effective
causes of the coups must be included the failure of the responsible
groups to give any conscious leadership to the spontaneous revolts
or to make them into a positive political factor. N.B. the example
of the Sicilian Vespers, 102 and the arguments among historians
about whether this was a spontaneous movement or one planned
in advance. In my view the two elements were combined in the
case of the Vespers. On the one hand, a spontaneous rising of the
Sicilian people against their Provencal rulers which spread so
rapidly that it gave the impression of simultaneity and hence of
preconcertation; this rising was the result of an oppression which

101 See chapter VI.

102 On 31 March 1282, the population of Palermo rose against the government
of Charles of Anjou. The uprising, which came to be known as the Sicilian Vespers,
spread rapidly throughout the island, and the French were expelled in less than
a month. The throne was subsequently given to Frederick of Aragon. The rising
had been the result of a combination of popular discontent and the plans of
pro-Aragonese elements among the nobility, e.g. Giovanni da Procida (1210
approx. 1282), who became chancellor of the Kingdom after the rising had
succeeded.

200

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had become intolerable throughout the national territory. On the
other hand, there was the conscious element, of varying importance
and effectiveness, and the success of Giovanni da Procida's plot
with the Aragonese. Other examples can be drawn from all past
revolutions in which several subaltern classes were present, with a
hierarchy determined by economic position and internal homo-
geneity. The "spontaneous" movements of the broader popular
strata make possible the coming to power of the most progressive
subaltern class as a result of the objective weakening of the State.
This is still a "progressive" example; but, in the modern world, the
regressive examples are more frequent.

There exists a scholastic and academic historico-political outlook
which sees as real and worthwhile only such movements of revolt
as are one hundred per cent conscious, i.e. movements that are
governed by plans worked out in advance to the last detail or in
line with abstract theory (which comes to the same thing). But
reality produces a wealth of the most bizarre combinations. It is
up to the theoretician to unravel these in order to discover fresh
proof of his theory, to "translate" into theoretical language the
elements of historical life. It is not reality which should be expected
to conform to the abstract schema. This will never happen, and
hence this conception is nothing but an expression of passivity.
(Leonardo was able to discern number in all the manifestations of
cosmic life, even where profane eyes only saw blind chance and
chaos.) [1930]

AGAINST BYZANTINISM

One may term "Byzantinism" or "scholasticism" the regressive
tendency to treat so-called theoretical questions as if they had a
value in themselves, independently of any specific practice. A
typical example of Byzantinism were the so-called Rome Theses, 103

103 The "Rome Theses" were the fundamental policy document of the first years
of the PCI. Passed at the Rome Congress of 20 March 1922 (the founding congress
of January 1 92 1 immediately after the split from the PSI was simply a demon-
stration, and a provisional settlement of organisational questions), they consisted
of theses on tactics drafted by Bordiga and Terracini it is these which are normally
referred to as the "Rome Theses" — on the agrarian question by Sanna and
Graziadei, and on the trade unions by Gramsci and Tasca. In the perspective of
Bordiga's theses on tactics, the main danger was seen as a social democratic
resolution of the crisis of the Italian State. The phenomenon of fascism (the
March on Rome was to occur within six months, and the fascist squads had been
active for almost two years) was seen as an organic development of the bourgeois
parliamentary regime; it was necessary to combat it, but only with the minimum
of means necessary to contain it it was not to be made the main enemy. When
the Comintern considered these theses, Trotsky and Radek proposed that they

THE MODERN PRINCE

20I

in which a kind of mathematical method was applied to each issue,
as in pure economics. The problem arises of whether a theoretical
truth, whose discovery corresponded to a specific practice, can be
generalised and considered as universal for a historical epoch. The
proof of its universality consists precisely i. in its becoming a
stimulus to know better the concrete reality of a situation that is
different from that in which it was discovered (this is the principal
measure of its fecundity) ; 2. when it has stimulated and helped this
better understanding of concrete reality, in its capacity to in-
corporate itself in that same reality as if it were originally an
expression of it. It is in this incorporation that its real universality
lies, and not simply in its logical or formal coherence, or in the
fact that it is a useful polemical tool for confounding the enemy.
In short, the principle must always rule that ideas are not born of
other ideas, philosophies of other philosophies; they are a con-
tinually renewed expression of real historical development. The
unity of history (what the idealists call unity of the spirit) is not a
presupposition, but a continuously developing process. Identity in
concrete reality determines identity of thought, and not vice versa.
It can further be deduced that every truth, even if it is universal,
and even if it can be expressed by an abstract formula of a mathe-
matical kind (for the sake of the theoreticians), owes its effectiveness
to its being expressed in the language appropriate to specific
concrete situations. If it cannot be expressed in such specific terms,
it is a byzantine and scholastic abstraction, good only for phrase-
mongers to toy with. [1932]

THE COLLECTIVE WORKER

In a critical account of the post-war events, and of the constitutional
(organic) attempts to escape from the prevailing state of disorder

should simply be rejected this was prior to the congress itself. They were finally
presented to the congress as a contribution to the preparation of the Fourth
World Congress of the Comintern, due in December, and in this way it was
intended to avoid breaking Comintern discipline. At the congress the theses were
attacked by the Comintern representatives, notably Kolarov, who harshly criticised
their rejection of the United Front slogan. They were defended not only by
Bordiga and Terracini, but also by Gramsci, who spoke of the "peasant" character
of the PSI and expressed fears that a united front would lead to the drowning of
the revolutionary party in a peasant context. Kolarov's speech had a considerable
effect on the delegates, and provoked the emergence of a minority opposition, led
notably by Tasca. It appears that one of the main reasons for Gramsci's continued
support for the Bordiga leadership at this time was his fear that if Bordiga was
removed only Tasca and the Right could replace him. For all this see General
Introduction. It was only at the Lyons Congress of January ig26 that the Rome
Theses were finally replaced by a document of similar stature — the Lyons Theses.

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and dispersal of forces, show how the movement to valorise the
factory by contrast with (or rather independently of) craft organisa-
tion 104 corresponded perfectly to the analysis of how the factory
system developed given in the first volume of the Critique of
Political Economy. 105 An increasingly perfect division of labour
objectively reduces the position of the factory worker to increasingly
"analytical" movements of detail, so that the complexity of the
collective work passes the comprehension of the individual worker;
in the latter's consciousness, his own contribution is devalued to
the point where it seems easily replaceable at any moment. At the
same time, work that is concerted and well organised gives a better
"social" productivity, so that the entire work-force of a factory
should see itself as a "collective worker". These were the premisses
of the factory movement, which aimed to render "subjective" that
which is given "objectively". What does objective mean in this
instance? For the individual worker, the junction between the
requirements of technical development and the interests of the
ruling class is "objective". But this junction, this unity between
technical development and the interests of the ruling class is only a
historical phase of industrial development, and must be conceived
of as transitory. The nexus can be dissolved ; technical requirements
can be conceived in concrete terms, not merely separately from the
interests of the ruling class, but in relation to the interests of the
class which is as yet still subaltern. A compelling proof that such
a "split" and new synthesis is historically mature is constituted by
the very fact that such a process is understood by the subaltern
class — which precisely for that reason is no longer subaltern, or at
least is demonstrably on the way to emerging from its subordinate
position. The "collective worker" understands that this is what he
is, not merely in each individual factory but in the broader spheres
of the national and international division of labour. It is precisely
in the organisms which represent the factory as a producer of real
objects and not of profit that he gives an external, political demon-
stration of the consciousness he has acquired. [1932]

VOLUNTARISM AND SOCIAL MASSES

In a whole series of problems — problems arising both in the re-
construction of past history and in historico-political analysis of the
present — no account is taken of the following factor: that the

io« i.e. the factory council movement animated by (kdine Nuovo.
106 i.e. Capital (Volume I, chapters XIV and XV).

THE MODERN PRINCE 203

actions and organisations of "volunteers' 106 must be distinguished
from the actions and organisations of homogeneous social blocs,
and judged by different criteria. (Obviously, "volunteers" should
be taken as meaning not the elite when this is an organic expression
of the social mass, but rather those who have detached themselves
from the mass by arbitrary individual initiative, and who often
stand in opposition to that mass or are neutral with respect to it.)

This factor is especially important in the case of Italy: I. on
account of the traditional apoliticism and passivity of the great
popular masses; the relative ease with which "volunteers are
recruited" is a natural reaction to these phenomena; 2. on account
of the social composition of Italy, one of whose features is the
unhealthy quantity of rural (or rural-type) middle and petits
bourgeois, who produce a large number of dissatisfied intellectuals — •
hence ready "volunteers" for any enterprise (even the most bizarre)
which is vaguely subversive (to the Right or to the Left) ; 3. on
account of the mass of rural wage-labourers and of Lumpenproletariat
— called in Italy by the picturesque name of "morti di fame". 167
When one analyses the Italian political parties, one can see that
they have always been parties of "volunteers", and in a certain
sense of declasses ; they have never or almost never represented

ioe The notion that modern Italian history was the creation of "volunteers"
was a typical fascist theme. On PP. p. 165, Gramsci quotes the fascist deputy
Balbo as stating: "The original creations of Italian history and civilisation, from
the day in which the country reawoke from its secular lethargy until today, are
due to the voluntary action of the youth. The holy rabble of Garibaldi, the heroic
interventionism of 191 5, the Black Shirts of the Fascist Revolution have given
unity and power to Italy, have welded a divided people into a nation." Gramsci
comments: "The assertion that modern Italy was characterised by volunteer
action is correct (commandos in the war could be added to the list), but it must
be stressed that this volunteer action, despite its undeniable historical merit, has
been a surrogate for popular intervention, and in this sense is a solution of com-
promise with the passivity of the masses of the nation. Volunteer action and passivity
go together more than is thought. The solution involving volunteer action is a
solution of authority, from the top down, formally legitimised by the consent, it
is claimed, of the 'best' elements. But to construct a lasting history the 'best
elements' are not enough ; the vaster and more numerous national-popular energies
are needed." And in another oblique comment on fascism, in the course of a note
on various interpretations of the Risorgimento (Ris. p. 60), Gramsci refers to the
fact that "an organic adhesion of the national-popular masses to the State is
replaced by a selection of 'volunteers' of the 'nation' abstractly conceived. Nobody
has realised that precisely the problem posed by Machiavelli when he proclaimed
the necessity of replacing the untrustworthy, provisional mercenaries by national
militia cannot be resolved until 'voluntarism' has been superseded by mass
'national-popular' action, since voluntarism is an intermediate, equivocal solution,
as dangerous as the phenomenon of mercenaries."

107 For the concept of "morto di fame" see the note entitled "Subversive",
pp. 272 5 below.

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homogeneous social blocs. One exception was the Cavourian
historic Right, and that was what constituted its organic and
permanent superiority over the so-called Action Party of Mazzini
and Garibaldi. 108 The latter was the prototype for subsequent
"mass" parties in Italy — which were not really mass parties at all
(i.e. they did not organise homogeneous social groups), but the
political equivalent of gypsy bands or nomads. Only one such
analysis exists (and that imprecise and gelatinous, written solely
from a "statistical-sociological" point of view) ; this is in Roberto
Michels' i7 proletariate e la borgkesia nel movimento socialista italiano,
Torino, Bocca 1908.

The position of Gottlieb 109 was precisely similar to that of the
Action Party, i.e. of a gypsy or nomad kind. His interest in the
trade unions was extremely superficial, and polemical in origin —
not systematic, not organic and coherent, not directed towards
social homogeneity but paternalistic and formalistic.

A distinction must be made between two kinds of voluntarism
or Garibaldism. On the one hand there is that which theorises
itself as an organic form of historico-political activity, and celebrates
itself in terms which are purely and simply a transposition of the
language of the individual superman to an ensemble of "supermen"
(celebration of active minorities as such, etc.). On the other hand
there is voluntarism or Garibaldism conceived as the initial moment
of an organic period which must be prepared and developed; a
period in which the organic collectivity, as a social bloc, will
participate fully. "Vanguards" without armies to back them up,
"commandos" without infantry or artillery, these too are trans-
positions from the language of rhetorical heroism — though vanguard
and commandos as specialised functions within complex and
regular organisms are quite another thing. The same distinction
can be made between the notion of intellectual elites separated
from the masses, and that of intellectuals who are conscious of being
linked organically to a national-popular mass. In reality, one has
to struggle against the above-mentioned degenerations, the false
heroisms and pseudo-aristocracies, and stimulate the formation of

108 yot the Cavourian Right and the Action Party, see "The Problem of
Political Leadership in the Formation and Development of the Nation and the
Modern State in Italy", on pp. 55 90 above.

108 Literally translated, Gottlieb = Amadeo [Bordiga]. For Gramsci's analysis
of Bordiga, see General Introduction. The rather odd designation of Bordiga as
"gypsy" can be taken to mean that in Gramsci's view Bordiga's conception of the
party involved no organic relationship with the proletariat, but made it into a
kind of "volunteer" organisation, unattached to any class.

THE MODERN PRINCE 205

homogeneous., compact social blocs, which will give birth to their
own intellectuals, their own commandos, their own vanguard —
who in turn will react upon those blocs in order to develop them,
and not merely so as to perpetuate their gypsy domination. Roman-
ticism's Paris boheme too was intellectually at the root of many
contemporary modes of thought which appear nonetheless to deride
those bohemiens. [1933-34]

2

STATE AND CIVIL SOCIETY

INTRODUCTION

The notes grouped in this section include some of the most crucial
to an understanding of Gramsci's political thought. They deal with
the nature of fascism, the revolutionary strategy appropriate in the
West (or in the epoch in which Gramsci is writing — see below), and
the theory of the State. They can perhaps best be approached via
the three related concepts of Caesarism, war of position, and civil
society.

"Caesarism", for Gramsci, is a concept which does not merely
refer to fascism, but can have a wider application — e.g. to the
British National Government of 1931, etc.; it is thus not identical
to Marx's concept of "Bonapartism", although it is clearly related
to it. "Caesarism" represents a compromise between two "funda-
mental" social forces, but 1. "The problem is to see whether in the
dialectic 'revolution/restoration' it is revolution or restoration
which predominates", and 2. "It would be an error of method to
believe that in Caesarism . . . the entire new historical phenomenon
is due to the equilibrium of the 'fundamental' forces. It is also
necessary to see the interplay of relations between the principal
groups ... of the fundamental classes and the auxiliary forces
directed by, or subjected to, their hegemonic influence." Thus, in
the specific case of the fascist regime in Italy, the problem, in
Gramsci's eyes, is 1. to analyse the "passive revolution" which
fascism perhaps represents, and 2. to analyse the specificity of the
social forces which produced it — i.e. rejecting absolutely the crude
equation fascism = capitalism.

In "The Concept of 'Passive Revolution' " (pp. 106-14), Gramsci
tentatively related "passive revolution" to "war of position". The
difficulty of this latter concept is that Gramsci uses it in two partially
conflicting senses. Sometimes it is the form of political struggle
which alone is possible in periods of relatively stable equilibrium
between the fundamental classes, i.e. when frontal attack, or war
of manoeuvre, is impossible. It is in such periods that Gramsci
poses the question "does there exist an absolute identity between
war of position and passive revolution ? Or at least does there exist,
or can there be conceived, an entire historical period in which the
two concepts must be considered identical — until the point at which

STATE AND CIVIL SOCIETY 2O7

the war of position again becomes a war of manoeuvre?" Here,
clearly, war of position will give way to war of manoeuvre at a
certain point in the historical development, and then it will once
again be possible to carry out "frontal attacks" on the State.
However, in "Political Struggle and Military War" (pp. 229-38),
war of position is related to the West, where there is a "proper
relation between State and civil society", unlike the East (Russia) ,
where war of manoeuvre was appropriate. The two conceptions of
"war of position" are only reconciled in one passage, and that with
considerable qualifications, where Gramsci suggests that in the
West civil society resists, i.e. must be conquered, before the frontal
assault on the State. This notion can of course be related to the
thesis put forward in "The Problem of Political Leadership . . ."
above, where Gramsci says that "A social group can, and indeed
must, already exercise 'leadership' [i.e. be hegemonic] before winning
governmental power (this indeed is one of the principal conditions
for the winning of such power)".

Clearly this thesis is open to reformist interpretations, involving
an under-estimate of the problem of the State in revolutionary
strategy. But there is little justification for imputing any such
illusion to Gramsci himself. The fact that, more than any other
great revolutionary Marxist thinker, he concerned himself with the
sphere of "civil society" and of "hegemony", in his prison writings,
cannot be taken to indicate a neglect of the moment of political
society, of force, of domination. On the contrary, his entire record
shows that this was not the case, and that his constant preoccupation
was to avoid any undialectical separation of "the ethical-political
aspect of politics or theory of hegemony and consent" from "the
aspect of force and economics". What is, however, true is that
Gramsci did not succeed in finding a single, wholly satisfactory
conception of "civil society" or the State. This is not the place to
attempt a discussion of his theory of the State. (Those interested
should see, in particular, the important exchange between Norberto
Bobbio and Jacques Texier in Gramsci e la cultura contemporanea,
Editori Riuniti, 1969.) But the diversity of his attempts to formulate
his position must be briefly indicated.

In the passage referred to above, civil society resists before the
frontal assault on the State. Yet, in another of the notes grouped
under the title "Political Struggle and Military War", Gramsci
describes the State in the West as "an outer ditch, behind which
there stand a powerful system of fortresses and earthworks" — i.e.
in precisely the opposite way. The State is elsewhere defined as

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"political society + civil society", and elsewhere again as a balance
between political society and civil society. In yet another passage,
Gramsci stresses that "in concrete reality, civil society and State
are one and the same".

To these variations in Gramsci's conception of the State there
correspond analogous variations in his conception of civil society.
(See too notes 4, 5 and 49 on pp. 55, 55 and 80 respectively, and
note 71 on p. 170.) On PP, p. 164, Gramsci writes: "A distinc-
tion must be made between civil society as understood by Hegel,
and as often used in these notes (i.e. in the sense of political and
cultural hegemony of a social group over the entire society, as
ethical content of the State), and on the other hand civil society
in the sense in which it is understood by catholics, for whom civil
society is instead political society of the State, in contrast with the
society of family and that of the Church." In this "Hegelian" usage,
State/political society is contrasted to civil society as moments of
the superstructure. Yet in Hegel's Philosophy of Right, civil society
includes economic relations — and it is in this sense that the term is
used by Marx, for example in The Jewish Question. And Gramsci
too at times adopts this usage, e.g. on MS, pp. 266-67: "Every
social form has its homo oeconomicus, i.e. its own economic activity.
To maintain that the concept of homo oeconomicus has no scientific
value is merely a way of maintaining that the economic structure
and the economic activity appropriate to it are radically changed, in
other words that the economic structure is so changed that the mode
of economic behaviour must necessarily change too in order to
become appropriate to the new structure. But precisely here lies
the disagreement, and a disagreement which is not so much objective
and scientific as political. What, anyway, would a scientific recogni-
tion that the economic structure has changed, and that economic
behaviour must change to conform to the new structure, mean?
It would have the significance of a political stimulus, nothing more.
Between the economic structure and the State with its legislation
and its coercion stands civil society, and the latter must be radically
transformed, in a concrete sense and not simply on the statute-book
or in scientific books. The State is the instrument for conforming
civil society to the economic structure, but it is necessary for the
State to 'be willing' to do this; i.e. for the representatives of the
change that has taken place in the economic structure to be in
control of the State. To expect that civil society will conform to the
new structure as a result of propaganda and persuasion, or that the
old homo oeconomicus will disappear without being buried with all

STATE AND CIVIL SOCIETY

20 9

the honours it deserves, is a new form of economic rhetoric, a
new form of empty and inconclusive economic moralism." Here
civil society is in effect equated with "the mode of economic
behaviour".

STATE AND CIVIL SOCIETY

OBSERVATIONS ON CERTAIN ASPECTS OF THE STRUCTURE OF POLITICAL
PARTIES IN PERIODS OF ORGANIC CRISIS

At a certain point in their historical lives, social classes become
detached from their traditional parties. In other words, the tradi-
tional parties in that particular organisational form, with the
particular men who constitute, represent, and lead them, are no
longer recognised by their class (or fraction of a class) as its expres-
sion. When such crises occur, the immediate situation becomes
delicate and dangerous, because the field is open for violent solu-
tions, for the activities of unknown forces, represented by charismatic
"men of destiny".

These situations of conflict between "represented and representa-
tives" reverberate out from the terrain of the parties (the party
organisations properly speaking, the parliamentary-electoral field,
newspaper organisation) throughout the State organism, rein-
forcing the relative power of the bureaucracy (civil and military),
of high finance, of the Church, and generally of all bodies relatively
independent of the fluctuations of public opinion. How are they
created in the first place ? In every country the process is different,
although the content is the same. And the content is the crisis of
the ruling class's hegemony, which occurs either because the ruling
class has failed in some major political undertaking for which it
has requested, or forcibly extracted, the consent of the broad masses
(war, for example), or because huge masses (especially of peasants
and petit-bourgeois intellectuals) have passed suddenly from a
state of political passivity to a certain activity, and put forward
demands which taken together, albeit not organically formulated,
add up to a revolution. A "crisis of authority" 1 is spoken of: this
is precisely the crisis of hegemony, or general crisis of the State.

The crisis creates situations which are dangerous in the short
run, since the various strata of the population are not all capable of
orienting themselves equally swiftly, or of reorganizing with the
same rhythm. The traditional ruling class, which has numerous
trained cadres, changes men and programmes and, with greater
speed than is achieved by the subordinate classes, reabsorbs the
control that was slipping from its grasp. Perhaps it may make
sacrifices, and expose itself to an uncertain future by demagogic
promises; but it retains power, reinforces it for the time being, and

1 See " 'Wave of Materialism' and 'Crisis of Authority' ", on pp. 275-6.

STATE AND CIVIL SOCIETY

211

uses it to crush its adversary and disperse his leading cadres, who
cannot be very numerous or highly trained. The passage of the troops
of many different parties under the banner of a single party, -which
better represents and resumes the needs of the entire class, is an
organic and normal phenomenon, even if its rhythm is very swift —
indeed almost like lightning in comparison with periods of calm.
It represents the fusion of an entire social class under a single
leadership, which alone is held to be capable of solving an over-
riding problem of its existence and of fending off a mortal danger.
When the crisis does not find this organic solution, but that of the
charismatic leader, it means that a static equilibrium exists (whose
factors may be disparate, but in which the decisive one is the
immaturity of the progressive forces); it means that no group,
neither the conservatives nor the progressives, has the strength for
victory, and that even the conservative group needs a master,
[i 932-1 934: 1st version 1930-1932.] See The Eighteenth Brumaire of
Louis Bonaparte. This order of phenomena is connected to one of the
most important questions concerning the political party — i.e. the
party's capacity to react against force of habit, against the
tendency to become mummified and anachronistic. Parties come
into existence, and constitute themselves as organisations, in
order to influence the situation at moments which are historically
vital for their class; but they are not always capable of adapting
themselves to new tasks and to new epochs, nor of evolving pari
passu with the overall relations of force (and hence the relative
position of their class) in the country in question, or in the interna-
tional field. In analysing the development of parties, it is necessary
to distinguish: their social group; their mass membership; their
bureaucracy and General Staff. The bureaucracy is the most
dangerously hidebound and conservative force; if it ends up by
constituting a compact body, which stands on its own and feels
itself independent of the mass of members, the party ends up by
becoming anachronist and at moments of acute crisis it is voided
of its social content and left as though suspended in mid-air. One
can see what has happened to a number of German parties as a
result of the expansion of Hitlerism. French parties are a rich field
for such research: they are all mummified and anachronistic —
historico-political documents of the various phases of past French
history, whose outdated terminology they continue to repeat; their
crisis could become even more catastrophic than that of the
German parties. [1932-34: 1st version 1930-32.]

In examining such phenomena people usually neglect to give due

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importance to the bureaucratic element, both civil and military;
furthermore they forget that not only actual military and bureau-
cratic elements, but also the social strata from which, in the
particular national structure, the bureaucracy is traditionally
recruited, must be included in such analyses. A political move-
ment can be of a military character even if the army as such does
not participate in it openly; a government can be of a military
character even if the army as such does not take part in it. In
certain situations it may happen that it suits better not to "reveal"
the army, not to have it cross the bounds of what is constitutional,
not to introduce politics into the ranks, as the saying goes — so that
the homogeneity between officers and other ranks is maintained,
on a terrain of apparent neutrality and superiority to the factions ;
yet it is nonetheless the army, that is to say the General Staff and
the officer corps, which determines the new situation and dominates
it. However, it is not true that armies are constitutionally barred
from making politics; the army's duty is precisely to defend the
Constitution — in other words the legal form of the State together
with its related institutions. Hence so-called neutrality only means
support for the reactionary side; but in such situations, the question
has to be posed in such terms to prevent the unrest in the country
being reproduced within the army, and the determining power of
the General Staff thus evaporating through the disintegration of
its military instrument. Obviously, none of these observations is
absolute; at various moments of history and in various countries
they have widely differing significance.

The first problem to be studied is the following: does there
exist, in a given country, a widespread social stratum in whose
economic life and political self-assertion (effective participation in
power, even though indirectly, by "blackmail") the bureaucratic
career, either civil or military, is a very important element? In
modern Europe this stratum can be identified in the medium and
small rural bourgeoisie, which is more or less numerous from one
country to another — depending on the development of industrial
strength on the one hand, and of agrarian reform on the other.
Of course the bureaucratic career (civil and military) is not the
monopoly of this social stratum; however, it is particularly well
suited to the social function which this stratum carries out, and to
the psychological tendencies which such a function produces or
encourages. These two elements impart to the entire social stratum
a certain homogeneity and energy in its aims — and hence a political
value, and an often decisive function within the entire social

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213

organism. The members of this stratum are accustomed to direct
command over nuclei of men, however tiny, and to commanding
"politically", not "economically". In other words, their art of
command implies no aptitude for ordering "things", for ordering
"men and things" into an organic whole, as occurs in industrial
production — since this stratum has no economic functions in the
modern sense of the word. It has an income, because legally it is
the owner of a part of the national soil, and its function consists
in opposing "politically" the attempts of the peasant farmer to
ameliorate his existence — since any improvement in the relative
position of the peasant would be catastrophic for its social position.
The chronic poverty and prolonged labour of the peasant, with the
degradation these bring, are a primordial necessity for it. This is the
explanation for the immense energy it shows in resisting and
counterattacking whenever there is the least attempt at autonomous
organisation of peasant labour, or any peasant cultural movement
which leaves the bounds of official religion. This social stratum
finds its limits, and the reasons for its ultimate weakness, in its
territorial dispersal and in the "non-homogeneity" which is inti-
mately connected to this dispersal. This explains some of its other
characteristics too: its volubility, the multiplicity of ideological
systems it follows, even the bizarre nature of the ideologies it some-
times follows. Its will is directed towards a specific end — but it is
retarded, and usually requires a lengthy process before it can
become politically and organisationally centralised. This process
accelerates when the specific "will" of this stratum coincides with
the will and the immediate interests of the ruling class; not only
that, but its "military strength" then at once reveals itself, so that
sometimes, when organised, it lays down the law to the ruling class,
at least as far as the "form" of solution is concerned, if not the
content. The same laws can be seen functioning here as have been
observed in relations between town and countryside in the case of
the subordinate classes. 2 Power in the towns automatically becomes
power in the countryside. But the absence of economic margins
and the normally heavier repression exercised from the top down-
wards in the countryside cause conflicts there immediately to
assume an acute and "personal" form, so that counterattacks have
to be more rapid and determined. The stratum under consideration
understands and sees that the origin of its troubles is in the towns,
in urban power; it therefore understands that it "must" dictate a

2 See "The City-Countryside Relationship" on pp. 90-102 above.

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solution to the urban ruling classes, so that the principal hot-bed
will be extinguished — even if this does not immediately suit the
urban ruling classes themselves, either because it is too costly, or
because it is dangerous in the long term (these classes see longer
cycles of development, in which it is possible to manoeuvre, instead
of simply following "material" interests). It is in that sense, rather
than in an absolute one, that the function of this stratum should
be seen as directive; 3 all the same, it is no light matter.* It must
be noted how this "military" character of the social group in
question — traditionally a spontaneous reaction to certain specific
conditions of its existence — is now consciously cultivated and
organically formed in anticipation. To this conscious process belong
the systematic efforts to create and reinforce various associations
of reservists and ex-combatants from the various corps and branches
of the services, especially of officers. These associations are linked
to the respective General Staffs, and can be mobilised when required,
without the need to mobilise the conscript army. The latter can
thus preserve its character of a reserve force — forewarned, reinforced,
and immunised from the political gangrene by these "private"
forces which cannot fail to influence its morale, sustaining and
stiffening it. It could be said that the result is a movement of the
"cossack" type — with its formations ranged not along the frontiers
of nationality, as was the case with the Tsarist cossacks, but along
the "frontiers" of the social class.

In a whole series of countries, therefore, military influence in
national life means not only the influence and weight of the military
in the technical sense, but the influence and weight of the social

3 See note 5 on p. 55. Gramsci's argument here is that the North Italian
capitalists might have preferred to continue with Giolitti's strategy of alliance
with the reformist working-class leaders after 1920, but that they were "led" by
their landlord allies to switch to a policy of total repression of the organized
working class. (It is true that "agrarian fascism" did precede urban repression.)
"Absolute" hegemony within the ruling-class bloc, however, remained of course
with the urban bourgeoisie.

* A reflection of this stratum can be seen in the ideological activity of the
conservative intellectuals of the Right. Gaetano Mosca's book Teorica dei governi e
governo parlamentare (second edition 1925, first edition 1883) is typical in this
respect; 4 even in 1883 Mosca was terrified at the possibility of a contact between
the towns and the countryside. Mosca, because of his defensive position (of
counterattack), understood the political technique of the subaltern classes better
in 1 883 than the representatives of those same classes, even in the towns, under-
stood it themselves even several decades later.

* Mosca (1858 1 941) was together with Pareto and Michels an originator of
the sociological theory of "elites". His basic concept was that of the "political
class", and his main object of attack was the Marxist theory of class struggle
and concept of "ruling class". (See NM. p. 140, etc.)

STATE AND CIVIL SOCIETY

215

stratum from which the latter (especially the junior officers) mostly
derives its origin. This series of observations is indispensable for
any really profound analysis of the specific political form usually
termed Caesarism or Bonapartism — to distinguish it from other
forms in which the technical military element as such predominates,
in conformations perhaps still more visible and exclusive.

Spain and Greece offer two typical examples, with both similar
and dissimilar characteristics. In Spain it is necessary to take
certain peculiarities into account: the size of the national territory,
and the low density of the peasant population. Between the lati-
fundist aristocrat and the peasant there does not exist a numerous
rural bourgeoisie; hence, minor importance of the junior officer
corps as a force in itself. (On the other hand, a certain oppositional
importance was possessed by the officers of the technical corps —
artillery and engineers ; these, of urban bourgeois origin, opposed
the generals and attempted to have a policy of their own.) Hence
military governments in Spain are governments of "great" generals.
Passivity of the peasant masses, as citizens and as soldiers. If political
disintegration occurs in the army, it does so in a vertical rather
than a horizontal sense, through rivalries between cliques at the
top: the rank and file splits up behind the various competing
leaders. Military government is a parenthesis between two con-
stitutional governments. The military are the permanent reserves
of order and conservation; they are a political force which comes
into action "publicly" when "legality" is in danger. The course
of events is similar in Greece, with the difference that Greek
territory is scattered over a whole system of islands, and that a
part of its more energetic and active population is always at sea,
which makes military intrigue and conspiracy easier. The peasantry
is passive in Greece as in Spain; but in the context of the total
population — the most energetic and active Greeks being sailors, and
almost always far from the centre of their political life — the general
passivity must be analysed differently in each case, nor can the
solution to the problem be the same in both countries. When the
members of a deposed government were shot in Greece some years
ago, 5 this was probably to be explained as an outburst of rage on

6 In 1 920, Greece was torn between two ruling class factions. On the one hand
the supporters of the deposed King Constantine, who leaned towards Germany.
On the other the "liberals" headed by Venizelos, supported by the British.
After several alternations in power, an attempt was made to assassinate Venizelos —
who was Prime Minister at the time in August 1920, and its failure was followed
by savage reprisals. Among those massacred was the royalist ex-minister
Dragoumis.

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the part of the energetic and active element referred to above,
with the intention of imparting a bloody lesson. The most important
observation to be made is that neither in Greece nor in Spain has
the experience of military government created a permanent, and
formally organic, political and social ideology — as does on the
other hand occur in those countries which are, so to speak,
potentially Bonapartist. The general historical conditions of the two
types are the same : an equilibrium of the conflicting urban classes,
which obstructs the mechanism of "normal" democracy — i.e.
parliamentarism. But the influence of the countryside in this
equilibrium is diverse in the two cases. In countries like Spain,
the total passivity of the countryside enables the generals of the
landowning aristocracy to utilise the army politically to restabilise
the threatened equilibrium — in other words the supremacy of the
ruling classes. In other countries the countryside is not passive, but
the peasant movement is not coordinated politically with the urban
movement: here the army has to remain neutral (up to a certain
point, of course), since otherwise it might split horizontally; instead
the bureacratic military class comes into action. This class, by
military means, stifles the (more immediately dangerous) movement
in the countryside. In this struggle, it finds a certain political
and ideological unification; it finds allies in the urban middle
classes (middle in the Italian sense) 6 — reinforced by students of
rural origin now living in the towns; and it imposes its political
methods on the upper classes, which are compelled to make
numerous concessions to it, and to allow some legislation favourable

• On NM. pp. 148-49, Gramsci writes: "The meaning of the expression
'middle class' changes from country to country. . . . The term came from English
social development. It seems that in England the bourgeoisie was never con-
ceived of as an integral part of the people, but always as an entity separate from
the latter: it thus came to pass, in English history, that instead of the bourgeoisie
leading the people and winning the latter's support to abolish feudal privileges,
the nobility (or a fraction of it) formed the national-popular bloc first against the
Crown and later against the industrial bourgeoisie. English tradition of a popular
"Toryism" (Disraeli, etc.). After the great liberal reforms, which brought the State
into conformity with the interests and needs of the middle class, the two basic
parties of English political life were differentiated on internal questions regarding
the same class; the nobility increasingly acquired the specific character of a
"bourgeois aristocracy" tied to certain functions of civil society and of political
society (the State) — concerning tradition, the education of the ruling stratum,
the preservation of a particular mentality which protects the system from sudden
upheavals, etc., the consolidation of the imperial structure, etc. ... In Italy, where
the feudal aristocracy was destroyed by the mediaeval Communes (physically
destroyed in the civil wars, except in Southern Italy and Sicily), since the tradi-
tional 'high' class is missing, the term 'middle' has gone down a rung. 'Negatively,'
middle class means non-popular, i.e. those not workers or peasants; positively, it
means the intellectual strata, the professional strata, the public employees."

STATE AND CIVIL SOCIETY

217

to its interests. In short, continuing to maintain itself under arms
amidst the general disarmament, and brandishing the danger of a
civil war between its own troops and the regular, conscripted
army if the ruling class shows too great an itch for resistance, it
succeeds in permeating the State with its interests, up to a certain
point, and in replacing a part of the leading personnel. These
observations must not be conceived of as rigid schemata, but merely
as practical criteria of historical and political interpretation. In
concrete analyses of real events, the historical forms are indi-
vidualised and can almost be called "unique". Caesar represents
a very different combination of real circumstances from that
represented by Napoleon I, as does Primo de Rivera from that of
2ivkovic, etc. 7 [1933-34: 1st version 1930-32]

In analysing the third level or moment of the system of relations
of force which exists in a given situation, 8 one may usefully have
recourse to the concept which in military science is called the
"strategic conjuncture" — or rather, more precisely, the level of
strategic preparation of the theatre of struggle. One of the principal
factors of this "strategic conjuncture" consists in the qualitative
condition of the leading personnel, and of what may be called the
"front-line" (and assault) forces. The level of strategic preparation
can give the victory to forces which are "apparently" (i.e. quan-
titatively) inferior to those of the enemy. It could be said that
strategic preparation tends to reduce to zero the so-called "im-
ponderable factors" — in other words, the immediate, unpre-
meditated reactions at a given moment of the traditionally inert
and passive forces. Among the factors involved in the preparation
of a favourable strategic conjuncture, there must precisely be
included those already studied in our earlier observations on the
existence and organisation of a military social stratum, side by side
with the national army in the technical sense.*

7 Primo de Rivera (1870-1930) was dictator of Spain 1923 30, with the
support of the monarchy. Petar 2ivkovic ( 1 879- 1 947) was Yugoslav prime minister
1929-32, and the instrument of King Alexander's dictatorial rule during those
years.

8 See "Analysis of Situations" above, pp. 175-185.

* In connection with the "military stratum", what T. Tittoni writes in Ricordi
persdnali di politica interna (Nuova Antologia, 1— 16 April ig2g) is interesting.
Tittoni recounts how he meditated on the fact that, in order to assemble the
forces of order required to confront disturbances which had broken out in one
place, it was necessary to plunder other regions. During the Red Week of June
1 914, in order to repress the troubles in Ancona, Ravenna was plundered in this
way ; and subsequently the Prefect of Ravenna, deprived of his forces of order,
was obliged to shut himself up in the Prefecture, abandoning the city to the
rebels. "Several times I wondered what the government could have done if a

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Further points could be developed out of the following extract
from the speech which General Gazzera, Minister of War, delivered
in the Senate on 19 May 1932 (see Corriere della Sera, 20 May) : "The
disciplinary regime obtaining in our army thanks to Fascism,
today sets a guiding norm valid for the entire nation. Other armies
have had, and still retain, a formal and rigid discipline. We keep
the principle constantly before us that the army is made for war,
and that it is for war that it must prepare; peacetime discipline
must be the same as wartime discipline, and it is in peacetime
that the latter must find its spiritual foundations. Our discipline is
based on a spirit of cohesion between leaders and followers which
is a spontaneous product of the system adopted. This system
resisted magnificently throughout a long and very hard war until
the final victory; it is the merit of the Fascist regime to have
extended to the entire Italian people so distinguished a disciplinary
tradition. It is on individual discipline that the outcome of strategic
conceptions and of tactical operations depends. War has taught us
many things, among them that there is a deep gulf between peace-
time preparation and wartime reality. It is certain that, whatever
preparations may have been made, the initial operations of a
campaign place the belligerents before new problems, which pro-
duce surprises on both sides. It should not for that reason be con-
cluded that it is useless to have any a priori conceptions, and that
no lessons can be derived from past wars. A theory of war can
in fact be extracted from them, a theory which must be understood
through intellectual discipline — understood as a means for pro-
moting modes of reasoning which are not discordant, and uniformity
of language such as will enable all to understand and make them-
selves understood. If, on occasions, theoretical unity has threatened
to degenerate into schematism, there has at once been a prompt
reaction, enforcing a rapid renovation of tactics — also made neces-
sary by technical advances. Such a system of rules is therefore not
static and traditional, as some people think. Tradition is considered
only as a force, and the rules are constantly in the process of revision
— not simply for the sake of change, but in order to fit them to
reality." (An example of "preparation of the strategic conjuncture"
is to be found in Churchill's Memoirs, where he speaks of the battle
of Jutland.) [1933-34: is t version 1932]

movement of revolt had broken out simultaneously all over the peninsula."
Tittoni proposed to the government that it should enrol ex-combatants under the
command of retired officers as "public order volunteers". His project seemed to
merit consideration, but it was not followed up.

STATE AND CIVIL SOCIETY

2ig

CAESARISM 9

Caesar, Napoleon I, Napoleon III, Cromwell, etc. Compile a
catalogue of the historical events which have culminated in a
great "heroic" personality.

Caesarism can be said to express a situation in which the forces
in conflict balance each other in a catastrophic manner; that is
to say, they balance each other in such a way that a continua-
tion of the conflict can only terminate in their reciprocal destruc-
tion. When the progressive force A struggles with the reactionary
force B, not only may A defeat B or B defeat A, but it may happen
that neither A nor B defeats the other — that they bleed each other
mutually and then a third force C intervenes from outside, sub-
jugating what is left of both A and B. In Italy, after the death of
Lorenzo il Magnifico, this is precisely what occurred. 10

But Caesarism — although it always expresses the particular
solution in which a great personality is entrusted with the task of
"arbitration" over a historico-political situation characterised by
an equilibrium of forces heading towards catastrophe — does not in
all cases have the same historical significance. There can be both
progressive and reactionary forms of Caesarism; the exact signifi-
cance of each form can, in the last analysis, be reconstructed only
through concrete history, and not by means of any sociological
rule of thumb. Caesarism is progressive when its intervention helps
the progressive force to triumph, albeit with its victory tempered
by certain compromises and limitations. It is reactionary when its
intervention helps the reactionary force to triumph — in this case
too with certain compromises and limitations, which have, however,
a different value, extent, and significance than in the former.
Caesar and Napoleon I are examples of progressive Caesarism.
Napoleon III and Bismarck of reactionary Caesarism.

The problem is to see whether in the dialectic "revolution/
restoration" it is revolution or restoration which predominates; for
it is certain that in the movement of history there is never any

• As is clear from another note (PP, p. 189) this term was suggested to Gramsci
by the analogy commonly drawn in fascist Italy between Caesar and Mussolini.
Gramsci pours scorn on the "theory of Caesarism", on the idea that Caesar
"transformed Rome from a city-state into the capital of the Empire" and by
implication on the idea that Mussolini had effected a similar transformation in
the status of modem Italy.

10 The death of Lorenzo in 1492 marked the end of the internal balance of
power between the Italian states, and the beginning of the period of foreign
domination which was to last until the Risorgimento.

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turning back, and that restorations in toto do not exist. Besides,
Caesarism is a polemical-ideological formula, and not a canon of
historical interpretation. A Caesarist solution can exist even without
a Caesar, without any great, "heroic" and representative per-
sonality. The parliamentary system has also provided a mechanism
for such compromise solutions. The "Labour" governments of
MacDonald were to a certain degree solutions of this kind ; and the
degree of Caesarism increased when the government was formed
which had MacDonald as its head and a Conservative majority. 11
Similarly in Italy from October 1922 until the defection of the
"Popolari", and then by stages until 3 January 1925, and then
until 8 November ia.26, 18 there was a politico-historical movement
in which various gradations of Caesarism succeeded each other,
culminating in a more pure and permanent form — though even
this was not static or immobile. Every coalition government is a
first stage of Caesarism, which either may or may not develop to
more significant stages (the common opinion of course is that
coalition governments, on the contrary, are the most "solid
bulwark" against Caesarism). In the modern world, with its great
economic-trade-union and party-political coalitions, the mechanism
of the Caesarist phenomenon is very different from what it was up
to the time of Napoleon III. In the period up to Napoleon III,
the regular military forces or soldiers of the line were a decisive
element in the advent of Caesarism, and this came about through
quite precise coups d'etat, through military actions, etc. In the
modern world trade-union and political forces, with the limitless
financial means which may be at the disposal of small groups of
citizens, complicate the problem. The functionaries of the parties
and economic unions can be corrupted or terrorised, without any
need for military action in the grand style — of the Caesar or 18
Brumaire type. The same situation recurs in this field as was
examined in connection with the Jacobin/Forty-eightist formula of
the so-called "Permanent Revolution". 13 Modern political tech-

11 i.e. the formation of the National Government after MacDonald's abandon-
ment of the Labour Party in 1931.

1S October 1922 was the date of the March on Rome. The Popular Party fsee
note 14 on p. 62 above) at first supported the fascists in parliament and joined
the government. In the summer of 1923, however, it split on the issue of policy
towards the fascists, and in the elections of January 1924 it presented its own
list of candidates. After the elections it refused to join a common front of opposition
parties. On 3 January 1925, the fascist government suppressed freedom of the
press. On 8 November 1926 the opposition parties were formally dissolved,
and non-fascist deputies were declared to be stripped of their mandates Gramsci
among them (he was arrested on the same day). 13 See note 49 on p. 80.

STATE AND CIVIL SOCIETY

221

nique became totally transformed after Forty-eight; after the expan-
sion of parliamentarism and of the associative systems of union and
party, and the growth in the formation of vast State and "private"
bureaucracies (i.e. politico-private, belonging to parties and trade
unions); and after the transformations which took place in the
organisation of the forces of order in the wide sense — i.e. not only
the public service designed for the repression of crime, but the
totality of forces organised by the State and by private individuals
to safeguard the political and economic domination of the ruling
classes. In this sense, entire "political" parties and other organisa-
tions — economic or otherwise — must be considered as organs of
political order, of an investigational and preventive character. The
generic schema of forces A and B in conflict with catastrophic
prospects — i.e. with the prospect that neither A nor B will be
victorious, in the struggle to constitute (or reconstitute) an organic
equilibrium, from which Caesarism is born (can be bom) — is
precisely a generic hypothesis, a sociological schema (convenient
for the art of politics). It is possible to render the hypothesis ever
more concrete, to carry it to an ever greater degree of approximation
to concrete historical reality, and this can be achieved by defining
certain fundamental elements.

Thus, in speaking of A and B, it has merely been asserted that
they are respectively a generically progressive, and a generically
reactionary, force. But one might specify the type of progressive
and reactionary force involved, and so obtain closer approximations.
In the case of Caesar and of Napoleon I, it can be said that A and
B, though distinct and in conflict, were nevertheless not such as to
be "absolutely" incapable of arriving, after a molecular process,
at a reciprocal fusion and assimilation. And this was what in fact
happened, at least to a certain degree (sufficient, however, for the
historico-political objectives in question — i.e. the halting of the
fundamental organic struggle, and hence the transcendence of the
catastrophic phase). This is one element of closer approximation.
Another such element is the following: the catastrophic phase may
be brought about by a "momentary" political deficiency of the
traditional dominant force, and not by any necessarily insuperable
organic deficiency. This was true in the case of Napoleon III. The
dominant force in France from 18 15 up to 1848 had split politically
(factiously) into four camps: legitimists, Orleanists, Bonapartists,
Jacobin-republicans. The internal faction struggle was such as to
make possible the advance of the rival force B (progressive) in a
precocious form; however, the existing social form had not yet

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exhausted its possibilities for development, as subsequent history
abundantly demonstrated. Napoleon III represented (in his own
manner, as fitted the stature of the man, which was not great)
these latent and immanent possibilities: his Caesarism therefore
has a particular coloration. The Caesarism of Caesar and Napoleon I
was, so to speak, of a quantitative/qualitative character; in other
words it represented the historical phase of passage from one type
of State to another type — a passage in which the innovations were
so numerous, and of such a nature, that they represented a complete
revolution. The Caesarism of Napoleon III was merely, and in a
limited fashion, quantitative; there was no passage from one type
of State to another, but only "evolution" of the same type along
unbroken lines.

In the modern world, Caesarist phenomena are quite different,
both from those of the progressive Caesar/Napoleon I type, and from
those of the Napoleon III type — although they tend towards the
latter. In the modern world, the equilibrium with catastrophic
prospects occurs not between forces which could in the last analysis
fuse and unite — albeit after a wearying and bloody process —
but between forces whose opposition is historically incurable and
indeed becomes especially acute with the advent of Caesarist
forms. However, in the modern world Caesarism also has a certain
margin — larger or smaller, depending on the country and its
relative weight in the global context. For a social form "always"
has marginal possibilities for further development and organisational
improvement, and in particular can count on the relative weakness
of the rival progressive force as a result of its specific character and
way of life. It is necessary for the dominant social form to preserve
this weakness : this is why it has been asserted that modern Caesarism
is more a police than a military system. [1933-34: 1st version
I93 2 ]

It would be an error of method (an aspect of sociological mech-
anicism) to believe that in Caesarism — whether progressive, reac-
tionary, or of an intermediate and episodic character — the entire
new historical phenomenon is due to the equilibrium of the "funda-
mental" forces. It is also necessary to see the interplay of relations
between the principal groups (of various kinds, socio-economic and
technical-economic) of the fundamental classes and the auxiliary
forces directed by, or subjected to, their hegemonic influence. Thus
it would be impossible to understand the coup d'etat of 2 December 14

i.e. the coup d'etat whereby Louis Napoleon came to power.

STATE AND CIVIL SOCIETY

223

without studying the function of the French military groups and
peasantry.

A very important historical episode from this point of view is
the so-called Dreyfus affair in France. This too belongs to the
present series of observations, not because it led to "Caesarism",
indeed precisely for the opposite reason: because it prevented the
advent of a Caesarism in gestation, of a clearly reactionary nature.
Nevertheless, the Dreyfus movement is characteristic, since it was
a case in which elements of the dominant social bloc itself thwarted
the Caesarism of the most reactionary part of that same bloc. And
they did so by relying for support not on the peasantry and the
countryside, but on the subordinate strata in the towns under the
leadership of reformist socialists (though they did in fact draw
support from the most advanced part of the peasantry as well).
There are other modern - historico-political movements of the
Dreyfus type to be found, which are certainly not revolutions, but
which are not entirely reactionary either — at least in the sense that
they shatter stifling and ossified State structures in the dominant
camp as well, and introduce into national life and social activity a
different and more numerous personnel. 15 These movements too
can have a relatively "progressive" content, in so far as they indicate
that there were effective forces latent in the old society which the
old leaders did not know how to exploit — perhaps even "marginal
forces". However, such forces cannot be absolutely progressive, in
that they are not "epochal". They are rendered historically effective
by their adversary's inability to construct, not by an inherent force
of their own. Hence they are linked to a particular situation of
equilibrium between the conflicting forces — both incapable in their
respective camps of giving autonomous expression to a will for
reconstruction. [1933]

THE FABLE OF THE BEAVER

(The beaver, pursued by trappers who want his testicles from which
medicinal drugs can be extracted, to save his life tears off his own
testicles.) Why was there no defence? Because the parties had

15 This passage appears to refer to fascism again — particularly if it is related
to the passage on "Self criticism and the Hypocrisy of Self-criticism" on pp. 254-7
below, where Gramsci makes similar points about the non-"epochal" character
of the regime, and about its "relatively" progressive character vis-d-vis the pre-
ceding bourgeois regime. In the other passage, Gramsci is careful to stress that
it is important in making any such judgement "to exclude the slightest appearance
of support for the 'absolutist' tendency, and that can be achieved by insisting on
the 'transitory' character of the phenomenon . . .".

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little sense of human or political dignity ? But such factors are not
natural phenomena, deficiencies inherent in a people as permanent
characteristics. They are "historical facts", whose explanation is
to be found in past history and in the social conditions of the
present. Apparent contradictions: there predominated a fatalistic and
mechanistic conception of history (Florence, 191 7, accusation of
Bergsonianism), 16 and yet positions taken up were characterised by
a formalistic, crude and superficial voluntarism. For example, the
1920 plan to establish an urban council in Bologna, restricted to
organised elements. 17 This would only have created a useless
duplicate, replacing an organism with historical roots in the masses
like the Camera del Lavoro by an organism of a purely abstract and
bookish kind. Did the plan at least have the political aim of trans-
ferring hegemony to the urban element [the proletariat] ? (The
latter, with the establishment of the council, would have acquired
a centre of its own — given that the Camera del Lavoro was organised
on a provincial basis.) There was no question of any intention of
this kind, and in any case the project was never carried out.

Treves' "expiation" speech: 18 this speech is fundamental for
understanding the political confusion and polemical dilettantism
of the leaders. Such skirmishes concealed these leaders' fear of
concrete responsibilities, and that fear in turn concealed the absence
of any unity with the class they represented, any comprehension
of its fundamental needs, its aspirations, its latent energies.
Paternalistic party, of petits bourgeois with an inflated idea of their
own importance. 18 Why no defence ? The notion of war psychosis,

16 See note 28 on p. 343. This passage analyses the suicidal passivity of Italian
maximalism and reformism before fascism.

17 There was a prolonged polemic in 1919-20 between the Ordine Nuovo con-
ception of factory councils as organs of the entire working class (including those
not organised in the socialist party or in trade unions) and the majority opinion
in the PSI which was horrified at this notion. The Ordine Nuovo group would
certainly have applied similar criteria to the formation of other forms of council,
such as the territorial "soviet" mentioned here.

18 Claudio Treves (1 869-1933) was together with Turati the main leader of
the reformist wing of the PSI, and, after their expulsion in 1922, of the reformist
PSUI, until he went into exile in 1926. On 30 March 1920 he made what became
known as his "expiation" speech, in which he described the tragic situation, the
expiation, of the ruling classes in a situation in which the bourgeoisie was powerless
to carry on effectively, while the proletariat was not yet ready to exercise power.

19 In Italian che fanno le mosche cocchiere, an allusion to La Fontaine's fable Le
Cocke et la Mouche, which recounts the story ofaflywho thinks that it is due to
his efforts that a coach drawn by six horses succeeds in ascending a steep hill;
the poem ends: "Ainsi certaines gens, faisant les empresses, S'introduisent dans
les affaires: lis font partout les necessaires, Et, partout importuns, devraient
etre chasses."

STATE AND CIVIL SOCIETY 225

and the belief that a civilised country cannot "allow" certain
violences to take place.

These generalities too were masks for other, deeper motives
(besides, they were in contradiction with what was repeated each
time a massacre occurred: We have always said, for our part,
that the ruling class is reactionary!), whose core once again was
the fact of separation from the class, i.e. the existence of "two
classes". There was a failure to grasp what would happen if reaction
triumphed, because the real struggle was not lived — only the struggle
as a doctrinal "principle". A further contradiction with respect to
voluntarism: if one is against voluntarism, one ought to appreciate
"spontaneity". But in fact the opposite was the case: what was
"spontaneous" was inferior, not worth considering, not even worth
analysing. In reality, the "spontaneous" was the most crushing
proof of the party's ineptitude, because it demonstrated the gulf
between the fine-sounding programmes and the wretched deeds.
But in the meantime the "spontaneous" events occurred (1919-20),
damaged interests, disturbed settled positions, aroused terrible
hatreds even among peaceful folk, brought out of their passivity
social strata which had been stagnating in putridity. 20 They
created, precisely because of their "spontaneity" and because they
were disavowed, the generic "panic", the "great fear" which
could not fail to unify the forces of repression which would crush
them without pity.

The so-called pact of alliance between Confederation and Party, 41

,0 In other words, the "spontaneous" activity of the Italian working class and
peasantry in 19 19 20 provoked a back lash among the traditionally "apolitical"
petit-bourgeois strata. Gramsci analyses this apoliticism elsewhere (PP, pp. 11-12).
See too PP, p. 54, where he wrote: "Treves' 'expiation' speech and the obsession
with interventionism are closely linked : what is involved is a policy of avoiding
the basic problem, the problem of power, and of diverting the attention and the
passions of the masses on to secondary objectives; of hypocritically concealing the
historical and political responsibility of the ruling class, channelling popular
anger against material and often unconscious instruments of ruling-class policies ;
in essence, this policy was a continuation of that of Giolitti. ... It was obvious
that the war, with the immense economic and psychological upheaval which it
had brought about especially among the petty intellectuals and the petits
bourgeois was going to radicalise these strata. The party turned them
gratuitously into enemies, instead of making allies of them, i.e. it threw them
back towards the ruling class." (The party alluded to is, of course, the PSI — the
PCI was not founded until 1921 and the obsession with interventionism to
which Gramsci refers was the tendency of the socialists in the post-war period
to use as the basic criterion for all political judgements the stance taken up in
1 9 14-15 on the question of Italian intervention in the war.)

21 i.e. the agreement of 29 September 1918, whereby the PSI and the CGL
denned their respective fields of activity: e.g. the party would direct all political
strikes, the CGL all economic ones "without obstructing each other".

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which can be compared to a concordat between State and Church,
constitutes an exceptional document of this gulf between represented
and representatives. The party, which is an embyronic State structure,
can allow no division of its political powers. It cannot permit a part
of its members to claim rights equal to its own, to pose as allies of
the "whole" — just as a State cannot allow a part of its subjects to
make (via a foreign power) a special contract, over and above the
general laws, governing their relations with it, i.e. with the very
State to which they belong. To admit such a situation would imply
the subordination de facto and dejure of the State and of the party
to the so-called majority of the represented: in reality, to a group
which poses itself as anti-State and anti-party and which ends up
by indirectly exercising power. In the case of the pact of alliance
it was clear that power did not lie with the party.

The curious relations obtaining between party and parliamentary
group likewise corresponded to the pact of alliance ; these too took
the form of an alliance with equal rights. This system of relations
meant that the party had no concrete existence as an independent
organism, but merely as one constitutive element of a more complex
organism, which had all the characteristics of a labour party —
without a centre, without any unitary will, etc. Must the unions
therefore be subordinated to the party? This is not the right way
to pose the question. The problem must be posed in the following
terms: every member of the party, whatever his position or his
responsibilities, is still a member of the party and subordinate to
its leadership. There cannot be subordination between union and
party : if the union has spontaneously chosen as its leader a member
of the party, that means that the union freely accepts the directives
of the party, hence freely accepts (indeed desires) control by the
party over its officials. This problem was not posed correctly in
1919, although there existed a great and instructive precedent, that
of June 19 14. 22 For in reality, the fractions had no policy, and
hence neither did the party. [1930]

" In June 1914, after the massacre of workers at Ancona (see note 33 on p. 70),
the General Strike called by the PSI was briefly and reluctantly supported, and
subsequently sabotaged, by the CGL. Gramsci points out that, despite this, the
PSI in 191 9 had not learnt its lesson with reference to the CGL. In August 1920,
on the eve of the factory occupations, Gramsci had in fact written in Online
Nuovo: "Today ... at a moment when the revolutionary period may impel the
Party into action from one moment to the next, the Italian movement is in a
situation where not only it has not resolved in practice the problem of the relations
between party and trade union, but it has not even raised the question. The
Italian proletarian movement is the field of activity of two political parties : the
official one and the de facto one constituted by the trade-union leaders."

STATE AND CIVIL SOCIETY

227

AGITATION AND PROPAGANDA

The weakness of the Italian political parties (excepting to some
extent the Nationalist party) throughout their period of activity,
from the Risorgimento onwards, has consisted in what one might
call an imbalance between agitation and propaganda — though it
can also be termed lack of principle, opportunism, absence of
organic continuity, imbalance between tactics and strategy, etc.
The principal reason why the parties are like this is to be sought in
the deliquescence of the economic classes, in the gelatinous economic
and social structure of the country — but this explanation is some-
what fatalistic. In fact, if it is true that parties are only the
nomenclature for classes, it is also true that parties are not simply a
mechanical and passive expression of those classes, but react
energetically upon them in order to develop, solidify and uni-
versalise them. This precisely did not occur in Italy, and the result
of this "omission" is precisely the imbalance between agitation
and propaganda — or however else one wishes to term it.

The State/government has a certain responsibility in this state
of affairs: one can call it a responsibility, in so far as it prevented
the strengthening of the State itself, i.e. demonstrated that the
State/government was not a national factor. The government in
fact operated as a "party". It set itself over and above the parties,
not so as to harmonise their interests and activities within the
permanent framework of the life and interests of the nation and
State, but so as to disintegrate them, to detach them from the
broad masses and obtain "a force of non-party men linked to the
government by paternalistic ties of a Bonapartist-Caesarist type".
This is the way in which the so-called dictatorships of Depretis,
Crispi and Giolitti, and the parliamentary phenomenon of trans-
formism, 23 should be analysed. Classes produce parties, and parties
form the personnel of State and government, the leaders of civil
and political society. There must be a useful and fruitful relation
in these manifestations and functions. There cannot be any forma-
tion of leaders without the theoretical, doctrinal activity of parties,

83 For "trasformismo", see note 8 on p. 58; for Crispi, note 24 on p. 66; for
Giolitti, note 68 on p. 94. Agostino Depretis (1813-87) was at first a Mazzinian;
later, in Sicily with Garibaldi, he was in fact working for Cavour. In 1876 he
became the first "Left" prime minister, and dominated parliamentary life until
his death. He chose his ministers from both sides of the parliament, in the process
which became known as transf ormism ; Crispi called this means of securing his
personal power a "parliamentary dictatorship", but did the same himself when
in power.

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without a systematic attempt to discover and study the causes
which govern the nature of the class represented and the way in
which it has developed. Hence, scarcity of State and government
personnel; squalor of parliamentary life; ease with which the
parties can be disintegrated, by corruption and absorption of the
few individuals who are indispensable. Hence, squalor of cultural
life and wretched inadequacy of high culture. Instead of political
history, bloodless erudition; instead of religion, superstitition ;
instead of books and great reviews, daily papers and broadsheets ;
instead of serious politics, ephemeral quarrels and personal clashes.
The universities, and all the institutions which develop intellectual
and technical abilities, since they were not permeated by the life
of the parties, by the living realities of national life, produced
apolitical national cadres, with a purely rhetorical and non-
national mental formation. Thus the bureaucracy became estranged
from the country, and via its administrative positions became a true
political party, the worst of all, because the bureaucratic hierarchy
replaced the intellectual and political hierarchy. The bureaucracy
became precisely the State/Bonapartist party.* [1930]

THE "PHILOSOPHY OF THE EPOCH"

The discussion on force and consent has shown that political science
is relatively advanced in Italy, and is treated with a certain frank-
ness of expression — even by individuals holding responsible positions
in the State. The discussion in question is the debate about the
"philosophy of the epoch", about the central theme in the lives of
the various states in the post-war period. How to reconstruct the
hegemonic apparatus of the ruling group, an apparatus which
disintegrated as a result of the war, in every state throughout the
world? Moreover, why did this apparatus disintegrate? Perhaps
because a strong antagonistic 24 collective political will developed ?
If this were the case, the question would have been resolved in
favour of such an antagonist. In reality, it disintegrated under the
impact of purely mechanical causes, of various kinds: 1. because
great masses, previously passive, entered into movement — but into

* See the books which after 191 9 criticised a "similar" state of affairs (but
far richer in terms of the life of "civil society") in the Kaiser's Germany, for
example Max Weber's book Parliament and Government in the German New Order:
a Political Critique of Bureaucracy and Party Life. Translation and preface by Enrico
Ruta, pp. xvi, 200 the translation is very imperfect and imprecise.

84 i.e. antagonistic to the existing capitalist and bourgeois order.

STATE AND CIVIL SOCIETY

229

a chaotic and disorganised movement, without leadership, i.e.
without any precise collective political will; 2. because the middle
classes, who during the war held positions of command and
responsibility, when peace came were deprived of these and left
unemployed — precisely after having learned how to command, etc. ;
3. because the antagonistic forces proved to be incapable of
organising this situation of disorder to their own advantage. The
problem was to reconstruct a hegemonic apparatus for these
formerly passive and apolitical elements. It was impossible to
achieve this without the use of force — which could not be "legal"
force, etc. Since the complex of social relations was different in
each state, the political methods of using force and the ways in
which legal and illegal forces were combined had to be equally
diverse. The greater the mass of the apolitical, the greater the part
played by illegal forces has to be. The greater the politically
organised and educated forces, the more it is necessary to "cover"
the legal State, etc. [1930-32]

POLITICAL STRUGGLE AND MILITARY WAR

In military war, when the strategic aim — destruction of the enemy's
army and occupation of his territory — is achieved, peace comes. It
should also be observed that for war to come to an end, it is enough
that the strategic aim should simply be achieved potentially: it is
enough in other words that there should be no doubt that an army
is no longer able to fight, and that the victorious army "could"
occupy the enemy's territory. Political struggle is enormously more
complex: in a certain sense, it can be compared to colonial wars
or to old wars of conquest — in which the victorious army occupies,
or proposes to occupy, permanendy all or a part of the conquered
territory. Then the defeated army is disarmed and dispersed, but
the struggle continues on the terrain of politics and of military
"preparation".

Thus India's political struggle against the English (and to a
certain extent that of Germany against France, or of Hungary
against the Little Entente) knows three forms of war: war of
movement, war of position, and underground warfare. Gandhi's
passive resistance is a war of position, which at certain moments
becomes a war of movement, and at others underground warfare.
Boycotts are a form of war of position, strikes of war of movement,
the secret preparation of weapons and combat troops belongs to

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underground warfare. A kind of commando tactics 25 is also to be
found, but it can only be utilised with great circumspection. If
the English believed that a great insurrectional movement was
being prepared, destined to annihilate their present strategic
superiority (which consists, in a certain sense, in their ability to
manoeuvre through control of the internal lines of communication,
and to concentrate their forces at the "sporadically" most dangerous
spot) by mass suffocation — i.e. by compelling them to spread out
their forces over a theatre of war which had simultaneously become
generalised — then it would suit them to provoke a premature out-
break of the Indian fighting forces, in order to identify them and
decapitate the general movement. Similarly it would suit France
if the German Nationalist Right were to be involved in an
adventurist coup d'itat; for this would oblige the suspected illegal
military organisation to show itself prematurely, and so permit an
intervention which from the French point of view would be timely.
It is thus evident that in these forms of mixed struggle — funda-
mentally of a military character, but mainly fought on the political
plane (though in fact every political struggle always has a military
substratum) — the use of commando squads requires an original
tactical development, for which the experience of war can only
provide a stimulus, and not a model.

The question of the Balkan comitadjis 29 requires separate treat-

** "Ardilis o." During the First World War, the "arditi" were volunteer
commando squads in the Italian army. The term was adopted by d'Annunzio
for his nationalist volunteer "legions", and was also used by the "arditi del popolo",
formed to combat the fascist squads in the summer of 192 1. This latter organisa-
tion emerged outside the left parties, but the mass of its local leaders and members
were communist or socialist. The PSI (who signed a "concilation pact" with the
fa cists at this time) condemned the organisation; they advocated a policy of
non-resistance. The PCI also condemned the organisation, for sectarian reasons,
preferring to concentrate on its own, purely communist, defence squads. Gramsci
had written and published articles welcoming the organisation before the official
condemnation, and even afterwards did so obliquely, by critici ing the PSI's
attitude. However, as his comments later in this note indicate, he did not feel
that working-class "arditi" could in fact hope to stand up to the fascist squads,
who enjoyed the connivance of the State. It was only mass as opposed to volunteer
action which could provide a viable response.

,s In the late nineteenth century, Turkey still occupied large parts of the
Balkans what are now Albania, Northern Greece, Southern Yugoslavia and
Southern Bulgaria — including the whole of the area traditionally known as
Macedonia (now divided between Yugoslavia, Greece and to a lesser extent
Bulgaria). In 1893 a revolutionary Macedonian committee was set up in Sophia
by the Macedonian nationalists Delcev and Gruev, and this committee began
to send armed bands (comitadjis) across the border into Turkish territory. Their
aim — strongly opposed by the Young Turks — was at least some measure of
Macedonian autonomy. All the surrounding countries — Bulgaria, Serbia and

STATE AND CIVIL SOCIETY 23 1

ment; they are related to particular conditions of the region's
geophysical environment, to the particular formation of the rural
classes, and also to the real effectiveness of the governments there.
The same is true with the Irish bands, 27 whose form of warfare and
of organisation was related to the structure of Irish society. The
comitadjis, the Irish, and the other forms of partisan warfare have
to be separated from the question of commandos, although they
appear to have points of contact. These forms of struggle are specific
to weak, but restive, minorities confronted by well-organised
majorities: modern commandos on the contrary presuppose a
large reserve-force, immobilised for one reason or another but
potentially effective, which gives them support and sustenance in
the form of individual contributions.

The relationship which existed in ig 17-18 between the com-
mando units and the army as a whole can lead, and has led, political
leaders to draw up erroneous plans of campaign. They forget:
1. that the commandos are simple tactical units, and do indeed
presuppose an army which is not very effective — but not one which
is completely inert. For even though discipline and fighting spirit
have slackened to the point where a new tactical deployment has
become advisable, they still do exist to a certain degree — a degree
to which the new tactical formation precisely corresponds. Other-
wise there could only be rout, and headlong flight; 2. that the
phenomenon of commandos should not be considered as a sign of
the general combativity of the mass of the troops, but, on the
contrary, as a sign of their passivity and relative demoralisation.
But in saying all this, the general criterion should be kept in mind
that comparisons between military art and politics, if made, should
always be taken cum grano salts [with a pinch of salt] — in other
words, as stimuli to thought, or as terms in a reductio ad absurdum.
In actual fact, in the case of the political militia there is neither
any implacable penal sanction for whoever makes a mistake or does
not obey an order exactly, nor do courts-martial exist — quite
apart from the fact that the line-up of political forces is not even
remotely comparable to the line-up of military forces.

In political struggle, there also exist other forms of warfare —
apart from the war of movement and siege warfare or the war of

Greece — formed their own armed bands (cete) in the yean that followed (as did
the Vlachs), to protect their own interests in the area. These bands fought each
other at the same time as they fought the Turks.

27 Presumably a reference to the Fenian bands, who rose against British rule
unsuccessfully in 1867 and continued sporadic activity during the latter years
of the century.

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position. True, i.e. modern, commandos belong to the war of posi-
tion, in its 1914-18 form. The war of movement and siege warfare
of the preceding periods also had their commandos, in a certain
sense. The light and heavy cavalry, crack rifle corps, 28 etc. — and
indeed mobile forces in general — partly functioned as commandos.
Similarly the art of organising patrols contained the germ of modern
commandos. This germ was contained in siege warfare more than
in the war of movement: more extensive use of patrols, and par-
ticularly the art of organising sudden sorties and surprise attacks
with picked men.

Another point to be kept in mind is that in political struggle one
should not ape the methods of the ruling classes, or one will fall
into easy ambushes. In the current struggles this phenomenon
often occurs. A weakened State structure is like a flagging army;
the commandos — i.e. the private armed organisations — enter the
fi eld, and they have two tasks : to make use of illegal means, while
the State appears to remain within legality, and thus to reorganise
the State itself. It is stupid to believe that when one is confronted
by illegal private action one can counterpose to it another similar
action — in other words, combat commando tactics by means of
commando tactics. It means believing that the State remains
perpetually inert, which is never the case — quite apart from all the
other conditions which differ. The class factor leads to a funda-
mental difference: a class which has to work fixed hours every day
cannot have permanent and specialised assault organisations — as
can a class which has ample financial resources and all of whose
members are not tied down by fixed work. At any hour of day or
night, these by now professional organisations are able to strike
decisive blows, and strike them unawares. Commando tactics cannot
therefore have the same importance for some classes as for others.
For certain classes a war of movement and manoeuvre is necessary —
because it is the form of war which belongs to them; and this, in
the case of political struggle, may include a valuable and perhaps
indispensable use of commando tactics. But to fix one's mind on the
military model is the mark of a fool: politics, here too, must have
priority over its military aspect, and only politics creates the
possibility for manoeuvre and movement.

From all that has been said it follows that in the phenomenon
of military commandos, it is necessary to distinguish between the
technical function of commandos as a special force linked to the

18 "Bersaglieri" an elite corps of the Italian army, founded by Lamarmora
in 1B36.

STATE AND CIVIL SOCIETY

233

modern war of position, and their politico-military function. As a
special force commandos were used by all armies in the World
War. But they have only had a politico-military function in those
countries which are politically enfeebled and non-homogeneous, and
which are therefore represented by a not very combative national
army, and a bureaucratised General Staff, grown rusty in the
service. [ 1 929-30]

On the subject of parallels between on the one hand the concepts
of war of manoeuvre and war of position in military science, and
on the other the corresponding concepts in political science, Rosa
[Luxemburg] 's little book, translated (from French) into Italian
in 1 919 by C. Alessandri, should be recalled. 29

In this book, Rosa — a little hastily, and rather superficially too —
theorised the historical experiences of 1905. She in fact disregarded
the "voluntary" and organisational elements which were far more
extensive and important in those events than — thanks to a certain
"economistic" and spontaneist prejudice — she tended to believe.
All the same, this little book (like others of the same author's
essays) is one of the most significant documents theorizing the war
of manoeuvre in relation to political science. The immediate
economic element (crises, etc.) is seen as the field artillery which
in war opens a breach in the enemy's defences — a breach sufficient
for one's own troops to rush in and obtain a definitive (strategic)
victory, or at least an important victory in the context of the
strategic line. Naturally the effects of immediate economic factors
in historical science are held to be far more complex than the
effects of heavy artillery in a war of manoeuvre, since they are
conceived of as having a double effect: 1. they breach the enemy's
defences, after throwing him into disarray and causing him to lose
faith in himself, his forces, and his future; 2. in a flash they organise
one's own troops and create the necessary cadres — or at least in a
flash they put the existing cadres (formed, until that moment, by
the general historical process) in positions which enable them to
encadre one's scattered forces; 3. in a flash they bring about the
necessary ideological concentration on the common objective to be
achieved. This view was a form of iron economic determinism, with
the aggravating factor that it was conceived of as operating with
lightning speed in time and in space. It was thus out and out
historical mysticism, the awaiting of a sort of miraculous
illumination.

28 Rosa Luxemburg: The General Strike — the party and the unions. The Italian
edition was published by Societa Eiilrice "Avanti!" in Milan, 1919.

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General Krasnov asserted (in his novel) 30 that the Entente did
not wish for the victory of Imperial Russia (for fear that the Eastern
Question would be definitively resolved in favour of Tsarism),
and therefore obliged the Russian General Staff to adopt trench
warfare (absurd, in view of the enormous length of the Front from
the Baltic to the Black Sea, with vast marshy and forest zones),
whereas the only possible strategy was a war of manoeuvre. This
assertion is merely silly. In actual fact, the Russian Army did
attempt a war of manoeuvre and sudden incursion, especially in
the Austrian sector (but also in East Prussia), and won successes
which were as brilliant as they were ephemeral. The truth is that
one cannot choose the form of war one wants, unless from the start
one has a crushing superiority over the enemy. It is well known
what losses were caused by the stubborn refusal of the General
Staffs to recognise that a war of position was "imposed" by the
overall relation of the forces in conflict. A war of position is not,
in reality, constituted simply by the actual trenches, but by the
whole organisational and industrial system of the territory which
lies to the rear of the army in the field. It is imposed notably by
the rapid fire-power of cannons, machine-guns and rifles, by the
armed strength which can be concentrated at a particular spot, as
well as by the abundance of supplies which make possible the
swift replacement of material lost after an enemy breakthrough or
a retreat. A further factor is the great mass of men under arms;
they are of very unequal calibre, and are precisely only able to
operate as a mass force. It can be seen how on the Eastern Front
it was one thing to make an incursion in the Austrian Sector, and
quite another in the German Sector; and how even in the Austrian
Sector, reinforced by picked German troops and commanded by
Germans, incursion tactics ended in disaster. The same thing
occurred in the Polish campaign of 1920; the seemingly irresistible
advance was halted before Warsaw by General Weygand, on the
line commanded by French officers. 31 Even those military experts
whose minds are now fixed on the war of position, just as they were

,0 P. N. Krasnov, From Two-headed Eagle to Red Flag, Berlin, 1921. Italian
edition, Florence, 1928.

81 The Red Army under Tukhachevsky was halted at the gates of Warsaw
in August 1920, in its counter-offensive following Pilsudski's invasion of the Soviet
Union. The defeat was followed by controversy both concerning the viability of
the entire attempt to "export revolution" without the support of the local popula-
tion, and concerning the specific responsibilities for the defeat (Budyenny and
Egorov, supported by Stalin, had not followed the orders of S. Kamenev, the
commander-in-chief, and had marched on Lvov instead of linking up with
Tukhachevsky before Warsaw).

STATE AND CIVIL SOCIETY 235

previously on that of manoeuvre, naturally do not maintain that
the latter should be considered as expunged from military science.
They merely maintain that, in wars among the more industrially
and socially advanced States, the war of manoeuvre must be
considered as reduced to more of a tactical than a strategic function;
that it must be considered as occupying the same position as siege
warfare used to occupy previously in relation to it.

The same reduction must take place in the art and science of
politics, at least in the case of the most advanced States, where
"civil society" has become a very complex structure and one which
is resistant to the catastrophic "incursions" of the immediate eco-
nomic element (crises, depressions, etc.). The superstructures of
civil society are like the trench-systems of modern warfare. In war
it would sometimes happen that a fierce artillery attack seemed to
have destroyed the enemy's entire defensive system, whereas in fact
it had only destroyed the outer perimeter; and at the moment of
their advance and attack the the assailants would find themselves
confronted by a line of defence which was still effective. The same
thing happens in politics, during the great economic crises. A crisis
cannot give the attacking forces the ability to organise with lightning
speed in time and in space ; still less can it endow them with fighting
spirit. Similarly, the defenders are not demoralised, nor do they
abandon their positions, even among the ruins, nor do they lose
faith in their own strength or their own future. Of course, things
do not remain exactly as they were; but it is certain that one will
not find the element of speed, of accelerated time, of the definitive
forward march expected by the strategists of political Cadornism. 82

The last occurrence of the kind in the history of politics was the
events of 191 7. They marked a decisive turning-point in the history
of the art and science of politics. Hence it is a question of studying
"in depth" which elements of civil society correspond to the
defensive systems in a war of position. The use of the phrase "in
depth" is intentional, because 1917 has been studied — but only
either from superficial and banal viewpoints, as when certain social
historians study the vagaries of women's fashions, or from a
"rationalistic" viewpoint — in other words, with the conviction that
certain phenomena are destroyed as soon as they are "realistically"
explained, as if they were popular superstitions (which anyway are
not destroyed either merely by being explained).

The question of the meagre success achieved by new tendencies

" See note 29 on p. 145.

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in the trade-union movement should be related to this series of
problems. 33 One attempt to begin a revision of the current tactical
methods was perhaps that outlined by L. Dav. Br. [Trotsky] at
the fourth meeting, when he made a comparison between the
Eastern and Western fronts. 34 The former had fallen at once, but
unprecedented struggles had then ensued ; in the case of the latter,
the struggles would take place "beforehand". The question, there-
fore, was whether civil society resists before or after the attempt
to seize power; where the latter takes place, etc. However, the
question was outlined only in a brilliant, literary form, without
directives of a practical character. [1933-34: 1st version 1930-32.]
It should be seen whether Bronstein's famous theory about the
permanent character of the movement 35 is not the political reflection
of the theory of war of manoeuvre (recall the observation of the
cossack general Krasnov) — i.e. in the last analysis, a reflection of
the general-economic-cultural-social conditions in a country in
which the structures of national life are embryonic and loose, and
incapable of becoming "trench or fortress". In this case one might

sa This is presumably a reference to the failure of communists in Italy between
1 92 1 and ig26 to win more than a minority position within the trade-union
movement, despite the betrayals of the CGL's reformist leaders.

81 The "fourth meeting" is the Fourth World Congress of the Comintern, at
which Gramsci was present. Trotsky gave the report on NEP, in the course of
which he said: ". . . it will hardly be possible to catch the European bourgeoisie
by surprise as we caught the Russian bourgeoisie. The European bourgeoisie is
more intelligent, and more farsighted; it is not wasting time. Everything that
can be set on foot against us is being mobilised by it right now. The revolutionary
proletariat will thus encounter on its road to power not only the combat vanguards
of the counter-revolution but also its heaviest reserves. Only by smashing, breaking
up and demoralising these enemy forces will the proletariat be able to seize state
power. By way of compensation, after the proletarian overturn, the vanquished
bourgeoisie will no longer dispose of powerful reserves from which it could draw
forces for prolonging the civil war. In other words, after the conquest of power,
the European proletariat will in all likelihood have far more elbow room for its
creative work in economy and culture than we had in Russia on the day after
the overturn. The more difficult and gruelling the struggle for state power, all
the less possible will it be to challenge the proletariat's power after the victory."
Trotsky, The First Five Years of the Communist International, Vol. II, pp. 221-22,
Pioneer, New York 1953.

86 i.e. Trotsky's theory of Permanent Revolution. Paradoxically, in view of
Gramsci's analogy here, in the military debate of 1 920-21 Trotsky was the main
opponent of war of manoeuvre, or the tactic of the revolutionary offensive, which
was put forward by those civil war generals who supported the idea of a "prole-
tarian military science" Frunze, Budyenny and also Tukhachevsky. Moreover,
he also delivered the main attack at the Third Comintern Congress on the "theory
of the off ensive" in the political sphere ; its main supporters were the PCI (see
General Introduction), the Left in the German party, and Bela Kun. It should
also perhaps be noted that the reference to Foch's unified command being a
possible military equivalent of the "united front" in politics was hardly a happy
analogy, since Foch in fact had leanings towards Napoleonic offensive tactics.

STATE AND CIVIL SOCIETY

237

say that Bronstein, apparently "Western", was in fact a cosmo-
politan — i.e. superficially national and superficially Western or
European. Hitch [Lenin] on the other hand was profoundly national
and profoundly European.

Bronstein in his memoirs recalls being told that his theory had
been proved true . . . fifteen years later, and replying to the epigram
with another epigram. 36 In reality his theory, as such, was good
neither fifteen years earlier nor fifteen years later. As happens to
the obstinate, of whom Guicciardini speaks, 37 he guessed more or
less correctly; that is to say, he was right in his more general
practical prediction. It is as if one was to prophesy that a little
four-year-old girl would become a mother, and when at twenty
she did so one said: "I guessed that she would" — overlooking the
fact, however, that when she was four years old one had tried to
rape the girl, in the belief that she would become a mother even then.
It seems to me that Hitch understood that a change was necessary
from the war of manoeuvre applied victoriously in the East in 1917,
to a war of position which was the only form possible in the West —
where, as Krasnov observes, armies could rapidly accumulate
endless quantities of munitions, and where the social structures were
of themselves still capable of becoming heavily-armed fortifications.
This is what the formula of the "United Front" 38 seems to me to

38 In My Life, pp. 157-58, Trotsky wrote: "Writing afterward in the inexact
and slovenly manner which is peculiar to him, Lunacharsky described my revolu-
tionary concept as follows : 'Comrade Trotsky held in 1 905 that the two revolutions
(the bourgeois and socialist), although they do not coincide, are bound to each
other in such a way that they make a permanent revolution. After they have
entered upon the revolutionary period through a bourgeois political revolution,
the Russian section of the world, along with the rest, will not be able to escape
from this period until the Social Revolution has been completed. It cannot be
denied that in formulating this view Comrade Trotsky showed great insight and
vision, albeit he erred to the extent of fifteen years.' The remark about my error
of fifteen years does not become any more profound through its later repetition
by Radek. All our estimates and slogans of 1905 were based on the assumption
of a victorious revolution, and not of a defeat. We achieved then neither a republic
nor a transfer of land, nor even an eight-hour day. Does it mean that we erred
in putting these demands forward? The defeat of the revolution blanketed all
prospects not merely those which I had been expounding. The question was
not of the dates of revolution but of the analysis of its inner forces and of foreseeing
its progress as a whole."

87 See Ricordi, Series II, No. 1 : "He who therefore has faith becomes obstinate
in what he believes and goes on his way intrepid and resolute, scorning difficulties
and dangers. . . . Whence it comes to pass that, since worldly affairs are subjected
to a thousand hazards and accidents, in the course of time there are many ways
in which unhoped for help may come to whoever has persevered in his
obstinacy. . .".

88 For the united front policy, launched by the Comintern Executive in
December 1921, see General Introduction.

238 GRAMSCi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

mean, and it corresponds to the conception of a single front for the
Entente under the sole command of Foch.

Hitch, however, did not have time to expand his formula — though
it should be borne in mind that he could only have expanded it
theoretically, whereas the fundamental task was a national one;
that is to say it required a reconnaissance of the terrain and identi-
fication of the elements of trench and fortress represented by the
elements of civil society, etc. In Russia the State was everything,
civil society was primordial and gelatinous; in the West, there was
a proper relation between State and civil society, and when the
State trembled a sturdy structure of civil society was at once
revealed. The State was only an outer ditch, behind which there
stood a powerful system of fortresses and earthworks: more or less
numerous from one State to the next, it goes without saying — but
this precisely necessitated an accurate reconnaissance of each indi-
vidual country.

Bronstein's theory can be compared to that of certain French
syndicalists on the General Strike, and to Rosa [Luxemburg] 's
theory in the work translated by Alessandri. Rosa's book and
theories anyway influenced the French syndicalists, as is clear from
some of Rosmer's 39 articles on Germany in Vie Ouvriere (first series
in pamphlet form). It partly depends too on the theory of
spontaneity. [1930-32]

THE TRANSITION FROM THE WAR OF MANOEUVRE (FRONTAL ATTACK)
TO THE WAR OF POSITION IN THE POLITICAL FIELD AS WELL

This seems to me to be the most important question of political
theory that the post-war period has posed, and the most difficult
to solve correctly. It is related to the problems raised by Bronstein
[Trotsky], who in one way or another can be considered the
political theorist of frontal attack in a period in which it only
leads to defeats. This transition in political science is only indirectly
(mediately) related to that which took place in the military field,
although certainly a relation exists and an essential one. The war
of position demands enormous sacrifices by infinite masses of people.
So an unprecedented concentration of hegemony is necessary, and
hence a more "interventionist" government, which will take the

** Alfred Rosmer was a revolutionary syndicalist during the First World War,
and edited La Vie Ouvriere together with Pierre Monatte. They were both among
the first leaders of the PCF, and Rosmer was editor of Humanite from 1923 to
1924. He was expelled in ig26 for supporting the Joint Opposition in the Russian
Party.

STATE AND CIVIL SOCIETY 239

offensive more openly against the oppositionists and organise per-
manently the "impossibility" of internal disintegration — with con-
trols of every kind, political, administrative, etc., reinforcement of
the hegemonic "positions" of the dominant group, etc. All this
indicates that we have entered a culminating phase in the political-
historical situation, since in politics the "war of position", once
won, is decisive definitively. In politics, in other words, the war of
manoeuvre subsists so long as it is a question of winning positions
which are not decisive, so that all the resources of the State's
hegemony cannot be mobilised. But when, for one reason or another,
these positions have lost their value and only the decisive positions
are at stake, then one passes over to siege warfare; this is con-
centrated, difficult, and requires exceptional qualities of patience
and inventiveness. In politics, the siege is a reciprocal one, despite
all appearances, and the mere fact that the ruler has to muster all
his resources demonstrates how seriously he takes his adversary.
[1930-32]

"A resistance too long prolonged in a besieged camp is
demoralising in itself. It implies suffering, fatigue, loss of rest, illness
and the continual presence not of the acute danger which tempers
but of the chronic danger which destroys." Karl Marx: Eastern
Question. 14 September 1855.

POLITICS AND MILITARY SCIENCE

Tactic of great masses, and immediate tactic of small groups.
Belongs to the discussion about war of position and war of move-
ment, in so far as this is reflected in the psychology both of great
leaders (strategists) and of iheir subordinates. It is also (if one can
put it like that) the point of connection between strategy and
tactics, both in politics and in military science. Individuals (even
as components of vast masses) tend to conceive war instinctively
as "partisan warfare" or "Garibaldine warfare" (which is a higher
form of "partisan warfare"). In politics the error occurs as a result
of an inaccurate understanding of what the State (in its integral
meaning: dictatorship -f- hegemony) really is. In war a similar
error occurs, transferred to the enemy camp (failure to understand
not only one's own State but that of the enemy as well). In both
cases, the error is related to individual particularism — of town or
region; this leads to an underestimation of the adversary and his
fighting organisation. [1930-32]

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INTERNATIONALISM AND NATIONAL POLICY

A work (in the form of questions and answers) by Joseph Vis-
sarionovitch [Stalin] dating from September 1927: it deals with
certain key problems of the science and art of politics. 40 The problem
which seems to me to need further elaboration is the following:
how, according to the philosophy of praxis (as it manifests itself
politically) whether as formulated by its founder [Marx] or
particularly as restated by its most recent great theoretician [Lenin]
— the international situation should be considered in its national
aspect. In reality, the internal relations of any nation are the result
of a combination which is "original" and (in a certain sense)
unique: these relations must be understood and conceived in their
originality and uniqueness if one wishes to dominate them and
direct them. To be sure, the line of development is towards inter-
nationalism, but the point of departure is "national" — and it is
from this point of departure that one must begin. Yet the perspective
is international and cannot be otherwise. Consequently, it is neces-
sary to study accurately the combination of national forces which
the international class [the proletariat] will have to lead and
develop, in accordance with the international perspective and
directives [i.e. those of the Comintern]. The leading class is in fact
only such if it accurately interprets this combination — of which it
is itself a component and precisely as such is able to give the move-
ment a certain direction, within certain perspectives. It is on this
point, in my opinion, that the fundamental disagreement between
Leo Davidovitch [Trotsky] and Vissarionovitch [Stalin] as inter-
preter of the majority movement [Bolshevism] really hinges. The
accusations of nationalism are inept if they refer to the nucleus of

10 This has usually been taken as a reference to Stalin's interview of September
1927 with the first American Labour Delegation. However, that interview contains
nothing that seems likely to have suggested to Gramsci the reflections in this note;
moreover, it is difficult to believe that he could have had any opportunity of
reading a text of Stalin's which appeared after his arrest. He did have, on the
other hand, among his books before his arrest an Italian translation, in pamphlet
form, of Stalin's June 1925 text entitled "Questions and Answers" (a speech
given at Sverdlov University), which perhaps appeared in Italian in September.
It seems certain that this is the text to which Gramsci is referring. In it Stalin
notably spoke of two forms of "liquidationist" danger in the Russian Party:
1. those who felt that there was no chance of building socialism in such a backward
country as Russia ; 2. those who felt that the fate of the Russian Revolution was
entirely dependent on the international revolution. Stalin went on to speak of a
"nationalist" danger caused by the pressure of the bourgeoisie in the field of
foreign policy, and by lack of confidence in the international proletarian revolution,
on the part of "the people who are handling our foreign policy".

STATE AND CIVIL SOCIETY 24 1

the question. If one studies the majoritarians' [Bolsheviks'] struggle
from 190Q up to 19 1 7, one can see that its originality consisted in
purging internationalism of every vague and purely ideological
(in a pejorative sense) element, to give it a realistic political content.
It is in the concept of hegemony that those exigencies which are
national in character are knotted together; one can well understand
how certain tendencies either do not mention such a concept, or
merely skim over it. A class that is international in character has —
in as much as it guides social strata which are narrowly national
(intellectuals), and indeed frequently even less than national:
particularistic and municipalistic (the peasants) — to "nationalise"
itself in a certain sense. Moreover, this sense is not a very narrow
one either, since before the conditions can be created for an economy
that follows a world plan, it is necessary to pass through, multiple
phases in which the regional combinations (of groups of nations)
may be of various kinds. Furthermore, it must never be forgotten
that historical development follows the laws of necessity until the
initiative has decisively passed over to those forces which tend
towards construction in accordance with a plan of peaceful and
solidary division of labour [i.e. to the socialist forces]. That non-
national concepts (i.e. ones that cannot be referred to each individual
country) are erroneous can be seen ab absurdo: they have led to
passivity and inertia in two quite distinct phases: i. in the first
phase, nobody believed that they ought to make a start — that is
to say, they believed that by making a start they would find them-
selves isolated; they waited for everybody to move together, and
nobody in the meantime moved or organised the movement;
2. the second phase is perhaps worse, because what is being awaited
is an anachronistic and anti-natural form of "Napoleonism" (since
not all historical phases repeat themselves in the same form). 41
The theoretical weaknesses of this modem form of the old mech-
anicism are masked by the general theory of permanent revolution,
which is nothing but a generic forecast presented as a dogma, and
which demolishes itself by not in fact coming true. [1933]

41 The first phase to which Gramsci refers is clearly that of the pre-war Second
International. The second is presumably a reference to the internationalism
increasingly invoked by Trotsky after 1924, and against the notion of Socialism
in One Country; Gramsci is arguing that this implies an expectation of the
revolution spreading out from Russia in the way that Napoleon s armies carried
certain of the ideas and achievements of the French Revolution outside the
borders of France and throughout Europe.

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problem of the "collective man" or of "social
conformism" 42

Educative and formative role of the State. Its aim is always that
of creating new and higher types of civilisation; of adapting the
"civilisation" and the morality of the broadest popular masses to
the necessities of the continuous development of the economic
apparatus of production; hence of evolving even physically new
types of humanity. But how will each single individual succeed in
incorporating himself into the collective man, and how will educa-
tive pressure be applied to single individuals so as to obtain their
consent and their collaboration, turning necessity and coercion into
"freedom"? Question of the "Law": this concept will have to be
extended to include those activities which are at present classified
as "legally neutral", and which belong to the domain of civil
society; the latter operates without "sanctions" or compulsory
"obligations", but nevertheless exerts a collective pressure and
obtains objective results in the form of an evolution of customs,
ways of thinking and acting, morality, etc.

Political concept of the so-called "Permanent Revolution", which
emerged before 1848 as a scientifically evolved expression of the

" See too NM. pp. 150-51 : "Tendency to conformism in the contemporary
world, more widespread and deeper than in the past: the standardisation of
thought and action assumes national or even continental proportions. The
economic basis of the 'collective man' : big factories, Taylorisation, rationalisation,
etc. . . . On social 'conformism', it should be stressed that the problem is not a
new one, and that the alarm expressed by certain intellectuals is merely comic.
Conformism has always existed: what is involved today is a struggle between
'two conformisms', i.e. a struggle for hegemony, a crisis of civil society. The old
intellectual and moral leaders of society feel the ground slipping from under their
feet; they perceive that their 'sermons' have become precisely mere 'sermons',
i.e. external to reality, pure form without any content, shades without a spirit.
This is the reason for their reactionary and conservative tendencies; for the
particular form of civilisation, culture and morality which they represented is
decomposing, and they loudly proclaim the death of all civilisation, all culture,
all morality; they call for repressive measures by the State, and constitute resistance
groups cut off from the real historical process, thus prolonging the crisis, since the
eclipse of a way of living and thinking cannot take place without a crisis. The
representatives of the new order in gestation, on the other hand, inspired by
'rationalistic' hatred for the old, propagate Utopias and fanciful schemes. What
is the point of reference for the new world in gestation? The world of production ;
work. The greatest utilitarianism must go to found any analysis of the moral and
intellectual institutions to be created and of the principles to be propagated.
Collective and individual life must be organised with a view to the maximum
yield of the productive apparatus. The development of economic forces on new
bases and the progressive installation of the new structure will heal the contra-
dictions which cannot fail to exist, and, when they have created a new 'con-
formism' from below, will permit new possibilities for self-discipline, i.e. for
freedom, including that of the individual."

STATE AND CIVIL SOCIETY 243

Jacobin experience from 1 789 to Thermidor. 43 The formula belongs
to an historical period in which the great mass political parties and
the great economic trade unions did not yet exist, and society was
still, so to speak, in a state of fluidity from many points of view:
greater backwardness of the countryside, and almost complete
monopoly of political and State power by a few cities or even by a
single one (Paris in the case of France) ; a relatively rudimentary
State apparatus, and greater autonomy of civil society from State
activity; a specific system of military forces and of national armed
services; greater autonomy of the national economies from the
economic relations of the world market, etc. In the period after
1870, with the colonial expansion of Europe, all these elements
change: the internal and international organisational relations of
the State become more complex and massive, and the Forty-
Eightist formula of the "Permanent Revolution" is expanded and
transcended in political science by the formula of "civil hegemony".
The same thing happens in the art of politics as happens in military
art: war of movement increasingly becomes war of position, and it
can be said that a State will win a war in so far as it prepares for
it minutely and technically in peacetime. The massive structures
of the modern democracies, both as State organisations, and as
complexes of associations in civil society, constitute for the art of
politics as it were the "trenches" and the permanent fortifications
of the front in the war of position: they render merely "partial"
the element of movement which before used to be "the whole" of
war, etc.

This question is posed for the modern States, but not for back-
ward countries or for colonies, where forms which elsewhere have
been superseded and have become anachronistic are still in vigour.
The question of the value of ideologies must also be studied in a
treatise of political science. [1933-34]

SOCIOLOGY AND POLITICAL SCIENCE

The rise of sociology is related to the decline of the concept of
political science and the art of politics which took place in the
nineteenth century (to be more accurate, in the second half of that
century, with the success of evolutionary and positivist theories).
Everything that is of real importance in sociology is nothing other
than political science. "Politics" became synonymous with parlia-

See note 49 on p. 80.

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mentary politics or the politics of personal cliques. Conviction that
the constitutions and parliaments had initiated an epoch of
"natural" "evolution", that society had discovered its definitive,
because rational, foundations, etc. And, lo and behold, society can
now be studied with the methods of the natural sciences!
Impoverishment of the concept of the State which ensued from
such views. If political science means science of the State, and the
State is the entire complex of practical and theoretical activities
with which the ruling class not only justifies and maintains its
dominance, but manages to win the active consent of those over
whom it rules, then it is obvious that all the essential questions of
sociology are nothing other than the questions of political science.
If there is a residue, this can only be made up of false problems,
i.e. frivolous problems. The question therefore which faced Bukharin
when he wrote his Popular Manual 4,4, was that of determining what
status could be accorded to political science in relation to the
philosophy of praxis: whether the two are identical (something
impossible to maintain, except from the most crudely positivist
viewpoint) ; or whether political science is the body of empirical
or practical principles which are deduced from a vaster conception
of the world or philosophy properly speaking; or whether this
philosophy is only the science of the concepts or general categories
created by political science, etc.

If it is true that man cannot be conceived of except as historically
determined man — i.e. man who has developed, and who lives, in
certain conditions, in a particular social complex or totality of
social relations — is it then possible to take sociology as meaning
simply the study of these conditions and the laws which regulate
their development? Since the will and initiative of men themselves
cannot be left out of account, this notion must be false. The problem
of what "science" itself is has to be posed. Is not science itself
"political activity" and political thought, in as much as it trans-
forms men, and makes them different from what they were before ?
If everything is "politics", then it is necessary — in order to avoid
lapsing into a wearisome and tautological catalogue of platitudes —
to distinguish by means of new concepts between on the one hand
the politics which corresponds to that science which is traditionally
called "philosophy", and on the other the politics which is
called political science in the strict sense. If science is the "dis-
covery" of formerly unknown reality, is this reality not conceived

See note 63 on p. 419.

STATE AND CIVIL SOCIETY

245

of in a certain sense as transcendent? And is it not thought that
there still exists something "unknown" and hence transcendent?
And does the concept of science as "creation" not then mean that
it too is "politics"? Everything depends on seeing whether the
creation involved is "arbitrary", or whether it is rational — i.e.
"useful" to men in that it enlarges their concept of life, and raises
to a higher level (develops) life itself.*

HEGEMONY ( CIVIL SOCIETY) AND SEPARATION OF POWERS

The separation of powers, 46 together with all the discussion pro-
voked by its realisation and the legal dogmas which its appearance
brought into being, is a product of the struggle between civil society
and political society in a specific historical period. This period is
characterised by a certain unstable equilibrium between the classes,
which is a result of the fact that certain categories of intellectuals
(in the direct service of the State, especially the civil and military
bureaucracy) are still too closely tied to the old dominant classes.
In other words, there takes place within the society what Croce
calls the "perpetual conflict between Church and State", in which
the Church is taken as representing the totality of civil society
(whereas in fact it is only an element of diminishing importance
within it), and the State as representing every attempt to crystallise
permanently a particular stage of development, a particular
situation. In this sense, the Church itself may become State, and
the conflict may occur between on the one hand secular (and
secularising) civil society, and on the other State/Church (when
the Church has become an integral part of the State, of political
society monopolised by a specific privileged group, which absorbs
the Church in order the better to preserve its monopoly with the
support of that zone of "civil society" which the Church represents).

Essential importance of the separation of powers for political and
economic liberalism; the entire liberal ideology, with its strengths

* In connection with the Popular Manual and its appendix Theory and Practice,
the philosophical review by Armando Carlini {Nuova Antologia, 16 March 1933)
should be consulted; it appears from this that the equation "Theory: practice =
pure mathematics: applied mathematics" was formulated by an Englishman
(Wittaker, I think). 46

45 Sir Edmund Whittaker (1873-1956), physicist and mathematician.

*■ The doctrine developed by Montesquieu in his Esprit des Lois on the basis
of the contemporary bourgeois political system in England as he saw it whereby
executive, legislative and judiciary functions are exercised independently of each
other. The principle inspired the American Constitution and others modelled
on it.

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and its weaknesses, can be encapsulated in the principle of the
separation of powers, and the source of liberalism's weakness then
becomes apparent: it is the bureaucracy — i.e. the crystallisation 0 f
the leading personnel — which exercises coercive power, and at a
certain point it becomes a caste. Hence the popular demand for
making all posts elective — a demand which is extreme liberalism,
and at the same time its dissolution (principle of the permanent
Constituent Assembly, etc.; in Republics, the election at fixed
intervals of the Head of State gives the illusion of satisfying this
elementary popular demand).

Unity of the State in the differentiation of powers: Parliament
more closely linked to civil society; the judiciary power, between
government and Parliament, represents the continuity of the written
law (even against the government). Naturally all three powers are
also organs of political hegemony, but in different degrees:
1. Legislature; 2, Judiciary; 3. Executive. It is to be noted how
lapses in the administration of justice make an especially disastrous
impression on the public: the hegemonic apparatus is more sensitive
in this sector, to which arbitrary actions on the part of the police
and political administration may also be referred. [1930-32]

THE CONCEPTION OF LAW

A conception of the Law which must be an essentially innovatory
one is not to be found, integrally, in any pre-existing doctrine (not
even in the doctrine of the so-called positive school, and notably
that of Ferri). 47 If every State tends to create and maintain a certain
type of civilisation and of citizen (and hence of collective life and
of individual relations), and to eliminate certain customs and
attitudes and to disseminate others, then the Law will be its instru-
ment for this purpose (together with the school system, and other
institutions and activities). It must be developed so that it is suitable
for such a purpose — so that it is maximally effective and productive
of positive results.

The conception of law will have to be freed from every residue
of transcendentalism and from every absolute; in practice, from
every moralistic fanaticism. However, it seems to me that one cannot

47 Enrico Ferri (1856-1929), penologist and politician, began his political
career as a socialist (editor of Avanti! 1900-1905), but rallied to fascism in 1922.
He was the most prominent member of the so-called positive school of penology,
and the founder of Italian criminology. The main idea behind his penal theories
was the rejection of any idea of moral retribution in the punishment of crimes,
in favour of the notion of punishment as a deterrent.

STATE AND CIVIL SOCIETY

247

start from the point of view that the State does not "punish" (i£
this term is reduced to its human significance), but only struggles
against social "dangerousness". In reality, the State must be con-
ceived of as an "educator", in as much as it tends precisely to
create a new type or level of civilisation- Because one is acting
essentially on economic forces, reorganising and developing the
apparatus of economic production, creating a new structure, the
conclusion must not be drawn that superstructural factors should be
left to themselves, to develop spontaneously, to a haphazard and
sporadic germination. The State, in this field, too, is an instrument
of "rationalisation", of acceleration and of Taylorisation. 48 It
operates according to a plan, urges, incites, solicits, and "punishes" ;
for, once the conditions are created in which a certain way of life
is "possible", then "criminal action or omission" must have a
punitive sanction, with moral implications, and not merely be
judged generically as "dangerous". The Law is the repressive and
negative aspect of the entire positive, civilising activity undertaken
by the State. The "prize-giving" 49 activities of individuals and
groups, etc., must also be incorporated in the conception of the
Law; praiseworthy and meritorious activity is rewarded, just as
criminal actions are punished (and punished in original ways,
bringing in "public opinion" as a form of sanction).

[1933-34: 1st version 1931-32.]

POLITICS AND CONSTITUTIONAL LAW

In Nuova Antologia, 16 December 1929, there is published a brief
note by a certain M. Azzalini, La politico, scienza ed arte di Stato,
which may be of interest as a presentation of the elements among
which scientific schematism flounders.

Azzalini begins by affirming that it was a "dazzling" glory on
Machiavelli's part "to have circumscribed the ambit of politics
within the State". What Azzalini means is not easy to grasp: he
quotes from Chapter III of The Prince the passage: "When the
Cardinal of Rouen said to me that the Italians understood nothing
of war, I replied that the French understood nothing of the State",
and on this single quotation he bases his assertion that "hence"
for Machiavelli "politics must be understood as a science, and as
the science of the State, and that was his glory, etc." (the term

*' See "Americanism and Fordism" on pp. 301-fl.
«• "premmtrici".

248 GRAMSCI: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

"science of the State" for "politics" was it seems used, in the correct
modern sense, only by Marsilio of Padua 50 before Machiavelli).
Azzalini is fairly lightweight and superficial. The anecdote of the
Cardinal of Rouen, torn from its context, means nothing. In its
context it takes on a meaning which does not lend itself to scientific
deductions: it was clearly just a witty epigram, a spontaneous
retort. The Cardinal of Rouen had asserted that the Italians under-
stood nothing of war ; in retaliation, Machiavelli replies that the
French understand nothing of the State, because otherwise they
would not have allowed the Pope to extend his power in Italy,
against the interests of the French State. Machiavelli was in fact
very far from thinking that the French understood nothing of the
State; on the contrary he admired the manner in which the
monarchy (Louis XI) had welded France into a unitary State,
and he used the actions of the French State as a term of comparison
for Italy. This conversation of his with the Cardinal of Rouen is
"political action" and not "political science"; for, according to
him, if it was damaging to French "foreign policy" that the Pope
should grow stronger, it was even more damaging to the domestic
affairs of Italy.

The strange thing is that, taking this incongruous quotation as
his cue, Azzalini goes on to say that "despite the assertion that this
science studies the State, a totally imprecise (!) definition (!?) is
given of it — since there is no indication of the criterion with which
the object of the enquiry is to be examined. And the imprecision
is absolute, in view of the fact that all the legal sciences in general,
and constitutional law in particular, refer indirectly and directly
to the State."

What does all this mean, applied to Machiavelli? Less than
nothing: mental confusion. Machiavelli wrote books of "immediate
political action", and not Utopias — which express the longing for
a ready-made State, with all its functions and elements ready-made
too. In his treatment, in his critique of the present, he expressed
general concepts — presented, however, in aphoristic rather than in
systematic form — and an original conception of the world. This
conception of the world too could be called "philosophy of praxis",
or "neo-humanism", in as much as it does not recognise trans-
cendent or immanent (in the metaphysical sense) elements, but

10 Marsilio of Padua (1275 1342), author of Defensor Pads. He ascribed the
continual wars in northern Italy to the temporal claims of the Papacy, and said
that the Church ought to be subordinated to the State. He stood for a general
restriction of Church powers, and influenced Reformation thinkers like Luther.

STATE AND CIVIL SOCIETY

249

bases itself entirely on the concrete action of man, who, impelled
by historical necessity, works and transforms reality. It is not true,
as Azzalini seems to believe, that in Machiavelli no account is taken
of "constitutional law", since general principles of constitutional
law can be found scattered throughout Machiavelli's work. Indeed
he quite clearly asserts the necessity for the State to be ruled by
law, by fixed principles, which virtuous citizens can follow in the
certainty of not being destroyed by the blows of blind fate. But
what Machiavelli does do is to bring everything back to politics —
i.e. to the art of governing men, of securing their permanent consent,
and hence of founding "great States". (It must be remembered
that, in Machiavelli's opinion, neither the Commune, nor the
Republic, nor the communal Signoria 51 was a State, since they lacked
not only a sizeable territory but also a population capable of
supporting the military force required for an autonomous inter-
national policy. In his opinion, there was still a situation of non-
State in Italy, with the Papacy, and this would last until religion too
became a "policy" of the State, and ceased to be the Pope's policy
for preventing the formation of strong States in Italy — a policy
which involved intervention in the internal affairs of peoples not
under his temporal domination, in the pursuit of interests which
were not those of the States in question, and which hence were
troublesome and disruptive.)

One could find in Machiavelli the confirmation of what I have
noted elsewhere: that the Italian mediaeval bourgeoisie could not
pass from the corporate to the political phase, because it was unable
to free itself completely from the mediaeval cosmopolitan conception
represented by the Pope, the clergy and also by the lay intellectuals
(humanists) — in other words, it was unable to create an autonomous
State, but remained within the mediaeval framework, feudal and
cosmopolitan.

Azzalini writes that "Ulpian's 52 definition on its own, or better
still the examples he gives in his Digest, are sufficient to reveal the
extrinsic identity (and so what?) of the object of the two sciences.
'Ius publicum ad statum rei (publicae) romanae spectat. — Publicum ius, in

11 The "Signoria" or council of notables became the effective power in the
Italian city states in the fourteenth century, replacing the "communal" democracy
of their earlier development and representing a transitional phase before the
emergence, in most cases, of a single dominant family dynasty. Such dynasties
were legitimised in the fifteenth century by Pope or Emperor, as the Principato
or Princely regime.

" Ulpian was a Roman jurist, who died in A.D. 228.

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sacris, in sacerdotibus, in magistratibus consistit' I 53 Hence there is an
identity of object in constitutional law and in political science, but
not a substantive one; for the criteria with which the two sciences
treat the same material are totally different. In fact, the spheres
of the juridical order and the political order are different. And, in
reality, while the first observes the public organism from a static
perspective, as the natural product of a particular historical evolu-
tion, the second observes that same organism from a dynamic
perspective, as a product whose virtues and whose defects can be
evaluated, and which consequently must be modified in the light
of new requirements and later developments." Hence one might
say that "the juridical order is ontological and analytical, since it
studies and analyses the various public institutions in their real
essence", while "the political order is deontological and critical,
since it studies the various institutions not as they are, but as they
ought to be, that is to say with evaluative criteria and considerations
of expediency which are not, and cannot be, juridical".

And this wiseacre considers himself an admirer of Machiavelli, a
disciple — indeed he even thinks that he has perfected Machiavelli's
thought!

"It follows from this that, despite the formal identity described
above, there exists a substantive diversity so profound and striking
that it perhaps invalidates the opinion pronounced by one of the
greatest contemporary publicists, that it is difficult if not impossible
to create a political science entirely distinct from constitutional law.
It seems to us that that opinion is true only if the analysis of the
juridical and political aspects stops there — but not if it goes further,
defining that further area which belongs to the exclusive com-
petence of political science. The latter, in fact, does not confine
itself to studying the organisation of the State with a criterion which
is deontological and critical, and therefore different from that used
by constitutional law for the same object; instead it extends its
sphere to a field which is proper to it, investigating the laws which
regulate the rise, evolution and decline of States. Nor can it be
asserted that such a study belongs to history (!) understood in a
general sense (!). For — even if it is admitted that the search for
causes, effects, and the mutual bonds of interdependence of the
natural laws governing the nature and the evolution of States,
constitutes an historical enquiry — the search for appropriate means
to control in practice the overall political strategy will always

63 "Public law concerns the state of the Roman republic. Public law consists
in rites, priests, and magistrates."

STATE AND CIVIL SOCIETY

remain of exclusively political competence, not historical and hence
not juridical. The function which Machiavelli promised once more
to carry out, and synthesised, when he said : 'I will argue how these
princedoms can be ruled and held', is such, both by the intrinsic
importance of the problem and by definition, that it not only
legitimises the autonomy of politics, but it also allows, at least from,
the point of view last outlined, even a formal distinction between
itself and constitutional law." And that is what is meant by
autonomy of politics !

But — says Azzalini — there exists an art as well as a science of
politics. "There exist men who draw, or drew, from personal
intuition their vision of the needs and interests of the country they
govern; who, in their governmental activity, realised that vision of
personal intuition in the external world. By this we certainly do not
mean that intuitive, and hence artistic, activity is the only, or the
predominant, activity of the Statesman; we only mean that, side
by side with practical, economic and moral activities, he must also
preserve the above-mentioned theoretical activity (whether in the
subjective form of intuition, or the objective ( !) form of expression) ;
and that if such requisites are missing, the politician cannot exist,
and even less (!) can the statesman — whose eminence is charac-
terised precisely by this faculty, which cannot be learnt (?). Thus
in the political field, too, in addition to the man of science in whom
cognitive theoretical activity predominates, there subsists the artist,
in whom intuitive theoretical activity predominates. Nor does that
entirely exhaust the sphere of action of the art of politics; for this
may be seen not only in terms of the statesman who, through the
practical functions of government, externalises the vision that
intuition creates internally, but can also be evaluated in terms of
the writer who realises in the external world ( !) the political truth
which he intuits — realises it not through political action, but
through works and writings which translate the author's intution.
This is the case with the Indian Kamandaka (third century a.d.),
with Petrarch in the Trattarello pei Carraresi, with Botero in the
Ragion di Stato, and, from certain points of view, with Machiavelli
and Mazzini."

This all really is a fine hotch-potch — worthy not so much of
Machiavelli as, more than anything else, of Tittoni, editor of
Nuova Antologia. Azzalini is incapable of finding his way about
either in philosophy or in political science. But I wanted to take
all these notes, in order to try to disentangle his plot, and see if
I could arrive at clear concepts for my own sake.

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For instance, it is necessary to disembroil what "intuition"
might mean in politics, and also the expression "art" of politics, etc.
Certain points from Bcrgson should be recalled at this juncture:
"Of life (reality in movement), intelligence offers us only a transla-
tion in terms of inertia. It circles around, taking the greatest
possible number of external views of the object, which, instead of
penetrating, it draws towards itself. But it is intuition which will
lead us into the very interior of life: by that I mean instinct which
has become disinterested." "Our eye perceives the traits of the
living being, but juxtaposed to each other rather than organically
related. The purpose of life, the simple movement which runs
through the lineaments, which links them together and gives them
a meaning, escapes it ; and it is this purpose that the artist tends to
capture, situating himself within the object by a kind of sympathy,
breaking down by an effort of intuition the barrier which space
places between him and his model. However, it is true that aesthetic
intuition only captures that which is individual." "Intelligence is
characterised by a natural incomprehensibility of life, since it
represents clearly only the discontinuous and the immobile." 51

Divergence, in the meantime, between political intuition and
aesthetic, lyric or artistic intuition; only by metaphor does one
speak of the art of politics. Political intuition is not expressed
through the artist, but through the "leader"; and "intuition"
must be understood to mean not "knowledge of men", but swiftness
in connecting seemingly disparate facts, and in conceiving the
means adequate to particular ends — thus discovering the interests
involved, and arousing the passions of men and directing them
towards a particular action. The "expression" of the "leader" is
his "action" (in a positive or a negative sense, of launching or
preventing a particular action, which is consistent or inconsistent
with the end which one wishes to attain). However, the "leader"
in politics may be an individual, but also be a more or less numerous
political body: in the latter case, unity of purpose will be achieved
by an individual (or by a small inner group, and within that small
group by an individual) who may change from time to time even
though the group remains united and consistent in its on-going
activity.

If one had to translate the notion "Prince", as used in
Machiavelli's work, into modern political language, one would
have to make a series of distinctions : the "Prince" could be a Head

M Henri Bergson, Creative Evolution, London, 1954, passim.

STATE AND CIVIL SOCIETY

253

of State, or the leader of a government, but it could also be a
political leader whose aim is to conquer a State, or to found a new
type of State; in this sense, "Prince" could be translated in modern
terms as "political party". In certain States, the "Head of State" —
in other words, the element which balances the various interests
struggling against the predominant (but not absolutely exclusivistic)
interest — is precisely the "political party". With the difference,
however, that in terms of traditional, constitutional law it juridically
neither rules nor governs. It has "de facto power", and exercises
the hegemonic function and hence that of holding the balance
between the various interests in "civil society"; the latter, however,
is in fact intertwined with political society to such an extent that
all the citizens feel that the party on the contrary both rules and
governs. It is not possible to create a constitutional law of the
traditional type on the basis of this reality, which is in continuous
movement; it is only possible to create a system of principles
asserting that the State's goal is its own end, its own disappearance,
in other words the re-absorption of political society into civil
society. [1930]

PARLIAMENT AND THE STATE 55

Professor Julius Miskolczy, the director of the Hungarian Academy
in Rome, has written in Magyar Szemle that in Italy "Parliament,
which used formerly to be so to speak outside the State, has now,
despite the valuable contribution which it continues to make,
become inserted in the State and has undergone a basic change in
its composition . . ."

The notion that Parliament may have become "inserted" into
the State is a discovery in the science and art of politics that is
worthy of the Christopher Columbuses of contemporary Reaction.
All the same, the assertion is interesting as evidence of the way in
which many politicians conceive the State in practice. For the
question does indeed have to be asked: do parliaments, even in
those countries where apparently they have most real power, in
fact constitute a part of the State structure? In other words, what
is their real function? Furthermore, if the answer is affirmative, in
what way do they constitute a part of the State, and how do they
carry out their particular function? On the other hand, even if
parliaments do not constitute an organic part of the State, is their

45 This title has been added by the editors Gramsci's note originally had
no title.

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existence of no significance for the State ? And what grounds are
there for the accusations made against parliamentarianism and
against the party system — which is inseparable from parlia-
mentarianism? (Objective grounds, naturally — i.e. ones related to
the fact that the existence of Parliament, in itself, hinders and
delays the technical actions of the government.)

That the representative system may politically "be a nuisance"
for the career bureaucracy is understandable; but this is not the
point. The point is to establish whether the representative and party
system, instead of being a suitable mechanism for choosing elected
functionaries to integrate and balance the appointed civil servants
and prevent them from becoming ossified, has become a hindrance
and a mechanism which operates in the reverse direction — and,
if so, for what reasons. Moreover, even an affirmative reply to
these questions does not exhaust the problem. For even allowing
(as it must be allowed) that parliamentarianism has become
inefficient and even harmful, it is not necessary to conclude that
the bureaucratic system must be rehabilitated and praised. It has
to be considered whether parliamentarianism and representative
system are synonymous, and whether a different solution is not
possible — both for parliamentarianism and for the bureaucratic
system — with a new type of representative system. [1933]

SELF-CRITICISM AND THE HYPOCRISY OF SELF-CRITICISM

It is clear that self-criticism has become a fashionable word. 56 The
stated claim is that an equivalent has been found to the criticism
represented by the "free" political struggle of a representative

" We have been unable to track down any example of the use of this word in
fascist Italy, but it seems clear that it must have been used, in arguments destined
to counter the charge that opposition parties were necessary to ensure criticism —
and hence efficiency. Precisely this kind of argument occurs in one of Mussolini's
speeches on 26 May 1927: "Here the problem arises: but how do you manage to
do without an opposition? . . . Opposition is not necessary to the functioning of a
healthy political regime. Opposition is stupid, superfluous in a totalitarian regime
like the Fascist regime. Opposition is useful in easy times, academic times, as
was the case before the war, when there were discussions in the Assembly about
if, how and when socialism would be achieved, and indeed a whole debate about
this — though this was clearly not serious, despite the men who took part in it.
But we have the opposition within ourselves, dear sirs, we are not old nags who
need a touch of the spur. We keep a strict check on ourselves . . ."

The term "self criticism" was of course already current in the communist
movement, and especially in the Soviet Union, by the late twenties. Tasca was
expelled from the PCI for refusing to criticise himself for his positions in 1927 28;
the Italian delegates to the Tenth Plenum in July 1929 had to criticise their
party's 1927 28 policies, and also the "softness" shown towards Tasca by the

STATE AND CIVIL SOCIETY

255

system — an equivalent which, in fact, if it is seriously applied, is
more effective and fruitful than the original. But this is the nub of
the matter : that the surrogate should be applied seriously, that the
self-criticism should be operative and "pitiless" — since its effective-
ness lies precisely in its being pitiless. In reality it has turned out
that self-criticism offers an opportunity for fine speeches and point-
less declarations, and for nothing else; self-criticism has been
"parliamentarised". For it has not yet been remarked that it is
not so easy to destroy parliamentarism as it seems. "Implicit" and
"tacit" parliamentarism is far more dangerous than the explicit
variety, since it has all its defects without its positive values. There
often exists a "tacit" party system, i.e. a "tacit" and "implicit"
parliamentarism where one would least think it. It is obvious that
it is impossible to abolish a "pure" form, such as parliamentarism,
without radically abolishing its content, individualism, and this in
its precise meaning of "individual appropriation" of profit and of
economic initiative for capitalist and individual profit. Hypo-
critical self-criticism is precisely a feature of such situation. Beside
statistics give an index of the real position. Unless it is claimed that
criminality has disappeared — which in any case other statistics
disprove (and how!).

The entire subject needs re-examining, especially with respect to
the "implicit" party system and parliamentarism, i.e. that which
functions like "black markets" and "illegal lotteries" where and
when the official market and the State lottery are for some reason
kept closed. Theoretically the important thing is to show that
between the old defeated absolutism of the constitutional regimes
and the new absolutism there is an essential difference, which
means that it is not possible to speak of a regression; not only this,
but also to show that such "black parliamentarism" is a function
of present historical necessities, is "a progress" in its way, that the
return to traditional "parliamentarism" would be an anti-historical
regression, since even where this "functions" publicly, the effective
parliamentarism is the "black" one. Theoretically it seems to me
that one can explain the phenomenon with the concept of
"hegemony", with a return to "corporativism" — not in the ancien
regime sense, but in the modern sense of the word, in which the

party leadership; the "three" began their opposition during the same year by
calling for "serious self-criticism" (notably by Togliatti and Grieco) for the
:g27-28 line. However, it seems difficult to interpret this note of Gramsci's as a
reference to the communist usage of the term, and at all events it is clear that
what follows refers to fascism in Italy.

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"corporation" cannot have closed and exclusivistic limits as was
the case in the past. (Today it is corporativism of "social function",
without hereditary or any other restriction — which was anyway only
relative in the past too, when its most obvious feature was that of
"legal privilege"). In discussing this subject, care must be taken to
exclude the slightest appearance of support for the "absolutist"
tendency, and that can be achieved by insisting on the "transitory"
character of the phenomenon (in the sense that it does not constitute
an epoch, not in the sense of its "short duration"). 67 (With respect
to this, it should be noted that the fact of "not constituting an
epoch" is too often confused with brief "temporal" duration: it is
possible to "last" a long time, relatively, and yet not "constitute
an epoch": the viscous forces of certain regimes are often unsus-
pected, especially if they are "strong" as a result of the weakness
of others (including where this has been procured) : with respect
to this, the opinions of Cesarino Rossi 58 should be recalled; these
were certainly mistaken "in the last resort", but they really did
contain a certain effective realism). "Black" parliamentarism
appears to be a theme which should be developed quite extensively;
it also offers an opportunity to define the political concepts which
constitute the "parliamentary" conception. (Comparisons with
other countries, in this respect, are interesting: for example, is not
the liquidation of Leone Davidovi [Trotsky] an episode of the
liquidation "also" of the "black" parliamentarism which existed
after the abolition of the "legal" parliament?) Real fact and legal
fact. System of forces in unstable equilibrium which find on the
parliamentary terrain the "legal" terrain of their "more economic"
equilibrium; and abolition of this legal terrain, because it becomes
a source of organisation and of reawakening of latent and slumbering
social forces. Hence this abolition is a symptom (and prediction)
of intensifications of struggles and not vice versa. When a struggle

6 ' See note 15 on p. 223. The Italian "farepoca" has no exact English translation
(although the English "epoch-making" does exist, with a rather different
meaning) .

S8 Cesare Rossi (b. 1887) was one of Mussolini's closest lieutenants in the
early days of the fascist movement, and in charge of his Press bureau until the
Matteotti murder of 1924. He was made the scapegoat for this, and broke with
Mussolini and fascism in consequence. He wrote a famous "Memorandum" on
Mussolini's involvement in a number of the most notorious fascist outrages of
the period 1920-24, and gave this to the opposition parties; it was published by
the liberal Amendola in Mondo in 1925. It is difficult to be sure which "opinions"
Gramsci is referring to here, but they might perhaps be the idea expressed in his
"Memorandum" that "the general atmosphere of illegality and cowardice" was
"created by the weakness of the Fascist regime".

STATE AND CIVIL SOCIETY

257

can be resolved legally, it is certainly not dangerous; it becomes so
precisely when the legal equilibrium is recognised to be impossible.
(Which does not mean that by abolishing the barometer one can
abolish bad weather.) [1933]

THE STATE

In the new "juridical" tendencies represented by the Kuovi Studi
of Volpicelli and Spirito, the confusion between the concept of
class-State and the concept of regulated society 59 should be noted,
as a critical point of departure. This confusion is especially note-
worthy in the paper on Economic Freedom presented by Spirito at
the Nineteenth Congress of the Society for Scientific Progress held
at Bolzano in September 1930, and published in Nuovi Studi in the
1930 September-October issue.

As long as the class-State exists the regulated society cannot
exist, other than metaphorically — i.e. only in the sense that the
class-State too is a regulated society. The Utopians, in as much as
they expressed a critique of the society that existed in their day, very
well understood that the class-State could not be the regulated
society. So much is this true that in the types of society which the
various Utopias represented, economic equality was introduced as

58 Spirito and Volpicelli were the principal theorists of the "corporate economy'
in fascist Italy. They claimed that corporativism represented a "post-capitalist"
economy, and that it had abolished the anarchy of liberal capitalism. Gramsci here
refers to the confusion involved in the idea that a "regulated" society could
co-exist with capitalism the class-State. Elsewhere Gramsci uses "regulated
society" to mean Communism (see "Statement of the Problem" in "Some
Problems in the Study of the Philosophy of Praxis', on pp. 381-2 below). The
concept is probably a reference to the concluding passage of "Socialism : Utopian
and Scientific" where Engels discusses the withering away of the State. He writes:
"With the seizing of the means of production by society, production of com-
modities is done away with, and, simultaneously, the mastery of the product over
the producer. Anarchy in social production is replaced by systematic, definite
organisation" (our italics). Spirito and Volpicelli claimed that the corporate
economy had achieved order and harmony. Gramsci comments, in effect, that
this will only be possible under Communism; until then, there will continue to
be a class-State, and hence no "regulated" society. See too the discussion of
Spirito's theories on PP. pp. 79 82, especially: "Fundamental question: the
Utopia of Spirito and Volpicelli consists in confusing the State with the regulated
society, a confusion which occurs by way of a purely 'rationalistic' concatenation
of concepts: individual = society (the individual is not an 'atom' but the historical
individuation of the entire society), society = State, hence individual = State.
The feature which differentiates this 'utopia' from the traditional Utopias and
from attempts in general to find the 'best possible State' is the fact that Spirito
and Volpicelli claim that this 'fantastic' entity of theirs already exists . . . For
political reasons the masses have been told: 'What you were awaiting, and what
was promised you by charlatans (i.e. the socialists and communists) already
exists', i.e. the regulated society, economic equality, etc."

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a necessary basis for the projected reform. Clearly in this the
Utopians were not Utopians, but concrete political scientists and
consistent critics. The Utopian character of some of them was due
to the fact that they believed that economic equality could be
introduced by arbitrary laws, by an act of will, etc. But the idea
that complete and perfect political equality cannot exist without
economic equality (an idea to be found in other political writers,
too, even right-wing ones — i.e. among the critics of democracy, in
so far as the latter makes use of the Swiss or Danish model to claim
that the system is a reasonable one for all countries) nevertheless
remains correct. This idea can be found in the writers of the
seventeenth century too, for example in Ludovico Zuccolo and in
his book // Belluzzi, and I think in Machiavelli as well. Maurras
believes that in Switzerland that particular form of democracy is
possible precisely because there is a certain common averageness
of economic fortunes, etc

The confusion of class-State and regulated society is peculiar to
the middle classes and petty intellectuals, who would be glad of
any regularisation that would prevent sharp struggles and upheavals.
It is a typically reactionary and regressive conception. [1930-32]

In my opinion, the most reasonable and concrete thing that can
be said about the ethical State, 60 the cultural State, is this: every
State is ethical in as much as one of its most important functions
is to raise the great mass of the population to a particular cultural
and moral level, a level (or type) which corresponds to the needs
of the productive forces for development, and hence to the
interests of the ruling classes. The school as a positive educative
function, and the courts as a repressive and negative educative
function, are the most important State activities in this sense: but,
in reality, a multitude of other so-called private initiatives and
activities tend to the same end — initiatives and activities which
form the apparatus of the political and cultural hegemony of the
ruling classes. Hegel's conception belongs to a period in which
the spreading development of the bourgeoisie could seem limitless,

t0 The idea of the "ethical" State is associated with Croce. For the latter, the
two moments of the State were the "ethical" and the "political" (or the "moral"
and the "useful") ; he saw these as being in perpetual dialectical contradiction —
a conflict which he represented symbolically as that between Church and State.
The term was also adopted by fascism, see e.g. Mussolini, in "The Doctrine of
Fascism", 1932: "The fascist State has its own consciousness, its own will, and
for that reason is called an 'ethical' State. In 1929 ... I said 'For fascism the
State is not the night-watchman ... it is a spiritual and moral fact ... it educates
the citizens to civil virtue . . etc.

STATE AND CIVIL SOCIETY

259

so that its ethicity or universality could be asserted: all mankind
will be bourgeois. But, in reality, only the social group that poses
the end of the State and its own end as the target to be achieved
can create an ethical State — i.e. one which tends to put an end to
the internal divisions of the ruled, etc., and to create a technically
and morally unitary social organism. [1931-32]

Hegel's doctrine of parties and associations as the "private"
woof of the State. This derived historically from the political
experiences of the French Revolution, and was to serve to give a
more concrete character to constitutionalism. Government with the
consent of the governed — but with this consent organised, and not
generic and vague as it is expressed in the instant of elections. The
State does have and request consent, but it also "educates" this
consent, by means of the political and syndical associations; these,
however, are private organisms, left to the private initiative of the
ruling class. Hegel, in a certain sense, thus already transcended pure
constitutionalism and theorised the parliamentary State with its
party system. But his conception of association could not help still
being vague and primitive, halfway between the political and the
economic; it was in accordance with the historical experience of
the time, which was very limited and offered only one perfected
example of organisation — the "corporative" (a politics grafted
directly on to the economy). Marx was not able to have historical
experiences superior (or at least much superior) to those of Hegel;
but, as a result of his journalistic and agitational activities, he had
a sense for the masses. Marx's concept of organisation remains
entangled amid the following elements: craft organisation; Jacobin
clubs; secret conspiracies by small groups; journalistic organisation.

The French Revolution offered two prevalent types. There were
the "clubs" — loose organisations of the "popular assembly" type,
centralised around individual political figures. Each had its news-
paper, by means of which it kept alive the attention and interest
of a particular clientele that had no fixed boundaries. This clientele
then upheld the theses of the paper in the club's meetings. Certainly,
among those who frequented the clubs, there must have existed
tight, select groupings of people who knew each other, who met
separately and prepared the climate of the meetings, in order to
support one tendency or another — depending on the circumstances
and also on the concrete interests in play.

The secret conspiracies, which subsequently spread so widely in
Italy prior to 1848, must have developed in France after Thermidor
among the second-rank followers of Jacobinism: with great difficulty

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in the Napoleonic period on account of the vigilant control of the
police; with greater facility from 1815 to 1830 under the Restora-
tion, which was fairly liberal at the base and was free from certain
preoccupations. In this period, from 181 5 to 1830, the differentiation
of the popular political camp was to occur. This already seemed
considerable during the "glorious days" of 1830, 61 when the forma-
tions which had been crystallising during the preceding fifteen
years now came to the surface. After 1830 and up to 1848, this pro-
cess of differentiation became perfected, and produced some quite
highly-developed specimens in Blanqui and Filippo Buonarroti.

It is unlikely that Hegel could have had first-hand knowledge of
these historical experiences, which are, however, more vivid in
Marx.*

The revolution which the bourgeois class has brought into the
conception of law, and hence into the function of the State, consists
especially in the will to conform (hence ethicity of the law and of
the State) . The previous ruling classes were essentially conservative
in the sense that they did not tend to construct an organic passage
from the other classes into their own, i.e. to enlarge their class
sphere "technically" and ideologically: their conception was that
of a closed caste. The bourgeois class poses itself as an organism in
continuous movement, capable of absorbing the entire society,
assimilating it to its own cultural and economic level. The entire
function of the State has been transformed; the State has become
an "educator", etc.

How this process comes to a halt, and the conception of the State
as pure force is returned to, etc. The bourgois class is "saturated":
it not only does not expand — it starts to disintegrate; it not only
does not assimilate new elements, it loses part of itself (or at least
its losses are enormously more numerous than its assimilations). A
class claiming to be capable of assimilating the whole of society,
and which was at the same time really able to express such a
process, would perfect this conception of the State and of law, so
as to conceive the end of the State and of law — rendered useless
since they will have exhausted their function and will have been
absorbed by civil society. [1931-32]

That the everyday concept of State is unilateral and leads to

el The three days in which the people of Paris rose and drove out Charles X.

* For this series of facts, see as primary material the publications of Paul Louis
and Maurice Block's Political Dictionary; for the French Revolution, see especially
Aulard; see too Andler's notes to the Manifesto. For Italy, see Luzio's book on
Masonry and the Risorgimento — highly tendentious.

STATE AND CIVIL SOCIETY

grotesque errors can be demonstrated with reference to Daniel
Halevy's recent book Decadence de la liberte, of which I have read
a review in Nouvelles Litteraires. For Halevy, "State" is the repre-
sentative apparatus; and he discovers that the most important
events of French history from 1870 until the present day have not
been due to initiatives by political organisms deriving from uni-
versal suffrage, but to those either of private organisms (capitalist
firms, General Staffs, etc.) or of great civil servants unknown to
the country at large, etc. But what does that signify if not that by
"State" should be understood not only the apparatus of government,
but also the "private" apparatus of "hegemony" or civil society?
It should be noted how from this critique of the State which does
not intervene, which trails behind events, etc., there is born the
dictatorial ideological current of the Right, with its reinforcement
of the executive, etc. However, Halevy's book should be read to
see whether he too has taken this path : it is not unlikely in principle,
given his antecedents (sympathies for Sorel, for Maurras, etc.).
[1930-32]

Curzio Malaparte, in the introduction to his little volume on the
Technique of the Coup d'Etat, seems to assert the equivalence of the
formula: "Everything within the State, nothing outside the State,
nothing against the State" with the proposition: "Where there is
freedom, there is no State". In the latter proposition, the term
"freedom" cannot be taken in its ordinary meaning of "political
freedom, freedom of the press, etc.", but as counterposed to "neces-
sity"; it is related to Engels' proposition on the passage from the
rule of necessity to the rule of freedom. 62 Malaparte has not caught
even the faintest whiff of the significance of the proposition.

[I93I-32]

In the (anyway superficial) polemic over the functions of the
State (which here means the State as a politico-juridical organisa-
tion in the narrow sense), the expression "the State as veilleur de
nuit" corresponds to the Italian expression "the State as policeman" 63
and means a State whose functions are limited to the safeguarding
of public order and of respect for the laws. The fact is glossed
over that in this form of regime (which anyway has never existed
except on paper, as a limiting hypothesis) hegemony over its
historical development belongs to private forces, to civil society —
which is "State" too, indeed is the State itself.

" At the end of his Socialism: Utopian and Scientific.

,s Veilleur de nuit means "night-watchman", see below. The Italian expression
referred to is "Stato-carabiniere".

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It seems that the expression veilleur de nuit, which should have
a more sarcastic ring than "the State as policeman", comes from
Lassalle. Its opposite should be "ethical State" or "interventionist
State" in general, but there are differences between the two expres-
sions. The concept of ethical State is of philosophical and intellectual
origin (belonging to the intellectuals: Hegel), and in fact could be
brought into conjunction with the concept of State-veilleur de nuit;
for it refers rather to the autonomous, educative and moral activity
of the secular State, by contrast with the cosmopolitanism and the
interference of the religious-ecclesiastical organisation as a mediaeval
residue. The concept of interventionist State is of economic origin,
and is connected on the one hand with tendencies supporting pro-
tection and economic nationalism, and on the other with the attempt
to force a particular State personnel, of landowning and feudal
origin, to take on the "protection" of the working classes against
the excesses of capitalism (policy of Bismarck and of Disraeli). 64

These diverse tendencies may combine in various ways, and in
fact have so combined. Naturally liberals ("economists") are for
the "State as veilleur de nuit", and would like the historical initiative
to be left to civil society and to the various forces which spring up
there — with the "State" as guardian of "fair play" and of the rules
of the game. Intellectuals draw very significant distinctions as to
when they are liberals and when they are interventionists (they may
be liberals in the economic field and interventionists in the cultural
field, etc.). The catholics would like the State to be interventionist
one hundred per cent in their favour; failing that, or where they are
in a minority, they call for a "neutral" State, so that it should not
support their adversaries. [1935: 1st version 1930]

The following argument is worth reflecting upon: is the concep-
tion of the g«72(far»2fi-nightwatchman State (leaving aside the pole-
mical designation: gendarme, nightwatchman, etc.) not in fact the
only conception of the State to transcend the purely "economic-
corporate" stages?

We are still on the terrain of the identification of State and
government — an identification which is precisely a representation
of the economic-corporate form, in other words of the confusion
between civil society and political society. For it should be

M Bismarck put through legislation providing for sickness and old age pensions;
Disraeli denounced certain of the worst excesses of mid- Victorian capitalism in
his novels, and his ministry (1874-80) limited the working day for women and
children, passed the Combination Act of 1 875 giving limited recognition to trade
unions, and put through the Public Health Act and the Artisans' Dwelling Act
in the same year, etc.

STATE AND CIVIL SOCIETY 263

remarked that the general notion of State includes elements which
need to be referred back to the notion of civil society (in the sense
that one might say that State = political society + civil society, in
other words hegemony protected by the armour of coercion). In a
doctrine of the State which conceives the latter as tendentially
capable of withering away and of being subsumed into regulated
society, the argument is a fundamental one. It is possible to imagine
the coercive element of the State withering away by degrees, as
ever-more conspicuous elements of regulated society (or ethical
State or civil society) make their appearance.

The expressions "ethical State" or "civil society" would thus
mean that this "image" of a State without a State was present to
the greatest political and legal thinkers, in so far as they placed
themselves on the terrain of pure science (pure Utopia, since based
on the premise that all men are really equal and hence equally
rational and moral, i.e. capable of accepting the law spontaneously,
freely, and not through coercion, as imposed by another class, as
something external to consciousness).

It must be remembered that the expression "nightwatchman"
for the liberal State comes from Lassalle, i.e. from a dogmatic and
non-dialectical statalist (look closely at Lassalle's doctrines on this
point and on the State in general, in contrast with Marxism). In
the doctrine of the State as regulated society, one will have to pass
from a phase in which "State" will be equal to "government",
and "State" will be identified with "civil society", to a phase of
the State as nightwatchman — i.e. of a coercive organisation which
will safeguard the development of the continually proliferating
elements of regulated society, and which will therefore progressively
reduce its own authoritarian and forcible interventions. Nor can
this conjure up the idea of a new "liberalism", even though the
beginning of an era of organic liberty be imminent. [ r 930-32]

If it is true that no type of State can avoid passing through a
phase of economic-corporate primitivism, it may be deduced that
the content of the political hegemony of the new social group which
has founded the new type of State must be predominantly of an
economic order: what is involved is the reorganisation of the
structure and the real relations between men on the one hand and
the world of the economy or of production on the other. The
superstructural elements will inevitably be few in number, and have
a character of foresight and of struggle, but as yet few "planned"
elements. Cultural policy will above all be negative, a critique of
the past; it will be aimed at erasing from the memory and at

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destroying. The lines of construction will as yet be "broad lines",
sketches, which might (and should) be changed at all times, so
as to be consistent with the new structure as it is formed. This
precisely did not happen in the period of the mediaeval communes;
for culture, which remained a function of the Church, was precisely
anti-economic in character (i.e. against the nascent capitalist
economy) ; it was not directed towards giving hegemony to the new
class, but rather to preventing the latter from acquiring it. Hence
Humanism and the Renaissance were reactionary, because they
signalled the defeat of the new class, the negation of the economic
world which was proper to it, etc. [1931-32]

Another element to examine is that of the organic relations
between the domestic and foreign policies of a State. Is it domestic
policies which determine foreign policy, or vice versa ? In this case
too, it will be necessary to distinguish: between great powers, with
relative international autonomy, and other powers; also, between
different forms of government (a government like that of Napoleon
III had two policies, apparently — reactionary internally, and liberal
abroad).

Conditions in a State before and after a war. It is obvious that,
in an alliance, what counts are the conditions in which a State
finds itself at the moment of peace. Therefore it may happen that
whoever has exercised hegemony during the war ends up by losing
it as a result of the enfeeblement suffered in the course of the
struggle, and is forced to see a "subordinate" who has been more
skilful or "luckier" become hegemonic. This occurs in "world wars"
when the geographic situation compels a State to throw all its
resources into the crucible : it wins through its alliances, but victory
finds it prostrate, etc. This is why in the concept of "great power"
it is necessary to take many elements into account, and especially
those which are "permanent" — i.e. especially "economic and
financial potential" and population. [1932-32]

ORGANISATION OF NATIONAL SOCIETIES

I have remarked elsewhere that in any given society nobody is
disorganised and without party, provided that one takes organisa-
tion and party in a broad and not a formal sense. In this multiplicity
of private associations (which are of two kinds : natural, and con-
tractual or voluntary) one or more predominates relatively or
absolutely — constituting the hegemonic apparatus of one social
group over the rest of the population (or civil society) : the basis

STATE AND CIVIL SOCIETY

265

for the State in the narrow sense of the governmental-coercive
apparatus.

It always happens that individuals belong to more than one
private association, and often to associations which are objectively
in contradiction to one another. A totalitarian 65 policy is aimed
precisely: 1. at ensuring that the members of a particular party
find in that party all the satisfactions that they formerly found in
a multiplicity of organisations, i.e. at breaking all the threads that
bind these members to extraneous cultural organisms ; 2. at destroy-
ing all other organisations or at incorporating them into a system
of which the party is the sole regulator. This occurs: 1. when the
given party is the bearer of a new culture — then one has a progres-
sive phase; 2. when the given party wishes to prevent another
force, bearer of a new culture, from becoming itself "totalitarian" —
then one has an objectively regressive and reactionary phase, even
if that reaction (as invariably happens) does not avow itself", and
seeks itself to appear as the bearer of a new culture.

Luigi Einaudi, in Ri forma Sociale for May-June 1931, reviews a
French work Les societes de la nation, Etude sur les elements comtitutifs
de la nation frangaise, by Etienne Martin Saint-Leon (volume of
415 pages, ed. Spes, Paris, 1930), in which some of these organisa-
tions are studied — but only those which exist formally. (For
example, do the readers of a newspaper form an organisation, or
not?, etc.) In any case, in as much as the subject was dealt with,
see the book and Einaudi's review as well. [1 930-32]

WHO IS A LEGISLATOR?

The concept of "legislator" must inevitably be identified with the
concept of "politician". Since all men are "political beings", all
are also "legislators". But distinctions will have to be made.
"Legislator" has a precise juridical and official meaning — i.e. it
means those persons who are empowered by the law to enact laws.
But it can have other meanings too.

Every man, in as much as he is active, i.e. living, contributes to
modifying the social environment in which he develops (to modify-
ing certain of its characteristics or to preserving others) ; in other
words, he tends to establish "norms", rules of living and of behaviour.
One's circle of activity may be greater or smaller, one's awareness
of one's own action and aims may be greater or smaller; further-
more, the representative power may be greater or smaller, and will

See note 33 on p. 147.

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be put into practice to a greater or lesser extent in its normative,
systematic expression by the "represented". A father is a legislator
for his children, but the paternal authority will be more or less
conscious, more or less obeyed and so forth.

In general, it may be said that the distinction between ordinary
men and others who are more specifically legislators is provided
by the fact that this second group not only formulates directives
which will become a norm of conduct for the others, but at the
same time creates the instruments by means of which the directives
themselves will be "imposed", and by means of which it will verify
their execution. Of this second group, the greatest legislative power
belongs to the State personnel (elected and career officials), who
have at their disposal the legal coercive powers of the State. But
this does not mean that the leaders of "private" organisms and
organisations do not have coercive sanctions at their disposal too,
ranging even up to the death penalty. The maximum of legislative
capacity can be inferred when a perfect formulation of directives
is matched by a perfect arrangement of the organisms of execution
and verification, and by a perfect preparation of the "spontaneous"
consent of the masses who must "live" those directives, modifying
their own habits, their own will, their own convictions to conform
with those directives and with the objectives which they propose to
achieve. If everyone is a legislator in the broadest sense of the
concept, he continues to be a legislator even if he accepts directives
from others — if, as he carries them out, he makes certain that
others are carrying them out too; if, having understood their
spirit, he propagates them as though making them into rules
specifically applicable to limited and definite zones of living.
E r 933]

RELIGION, STATE, PARTY

In Man Kampf, Hitler writes: "The founding or the destruction
of a religion is an action of immeasurably greater importance than
the founding or the destruction of a State: not to speak of a party. . ."
Superficial and acritical. The three elements — religion (or "active"
conception of the world), State, party — are indissoluble, and in the
real process of historico-political development there is a necessary
passage from one to the other.

In Machiavelli, in the ways and language of the time, an under-
standing of this necessary homogeneity and interrelation of the
three elements can be observed. To lose one's soul in order to save

STATE AND CIVIL SOCIETY

267

one's country or State is an element of absolute laicism, of positive
and negative conception of the world (against religion, or the
dominant conception). In the modern world, a part} is such —
integrally, and not, as happens, a fraction of a larger party — when
it is conceived, organised and led in ways and in forms such that
it will develop integrally into a State (an integral State, and not
into a government technically understood) and into a conception
of the world. The development of the party into a State reacts
upon the party and requires of it a continuous reorganisation and
development, just as the development of the party and State into
a conception of the world, i.e. into a total and molecular (individual)
transformation of ways of thinking and acting, reacts upon the
State and the party, compelling them to reorganise continually and
confronting them with new and original problems to solve. It is
evident that such a conception of the world is hindered in its
practical development by blind, unilateral "party" fanaticism (in
this case that of a sect, of a fraction of a larger party, within which
the struggle takes place), i.e. by the absence either of a State con-
ception or of a conception of the world capable of developing
because historically necessary.

The political life of today furnishes ample evidence of these
mental limitations and deficiencies, which, besides, provoke
dramatic struggles — for they are themselves the means by which
historical development in practice occurs. But the past, and the
Italian past which interests us most, from Machiavelli onwards,
is no less rich in experiences; for all of history bears witness to
the present. [1933]

STATE AND PARTIES

The function of hegemony or political leadership exercised by
parties can be estimated from the evolution of the internal life of
the parties themselves. If the State represents the coercive and
punitive force of juridical regulation of a country, the parties —
representing the spontaneous adhesion of an elite to such a regula-
tion, considered as a type of collective society to which the entire
mass must be educated — must show in their specific internal life
that they have assimilated as principles of moral conduct those
rules which in the State are legal obligations. In the parties necessity
has already become freedom, and thence is born the immense
political value (i.e. value for political leadership) of the internal
discipline of a party, and hence the value as a criterion of such

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discipline in estimating the growth potential of the various parties.
From this point of view the parties can be considered as schools of
State life. Elements of party life : character (resistance to the pres-
sures of surpassed cultures), honour (fearless will in maintaining the
new type of culture and life), dignity (awareness of operating for a
higher end), etc. [1930--32]

STATOLATRY

Attitude of each particular social group towards its own State. The
analysis would not be accurate if no account were taken of the two
forms in which the State presents itself in the language and culture of
specific epochs, i.e. as civil society and as political society. The
term "statolatry" is applied to a particular attitude towards the
"government by functionaries" or political society, which in every-
day language is the form of State life to which the term of State is
applied and which is commonly understood as the entire State. The
assertion that the State can be identified with individuals (the
individuals of a social group), as an element of active culture (i.e.
as a movement to create a new civilisation, a new type of man and
of citizen), must serve to determine the will to construct within the
husk of political society a complex and well-articulated civil society,
in which the individual can govern himself without his self-govern-
ment thereby entering into conflict with political society — but
rather becoming its normal continuation, its organic complement.
For some social groups, which before their ascent to autonomous
State life have not had a long independent period of cultural and
moral development on their own (as was made possible in mediaeval
society and under the absolute regimes by the juridical existence 65
of the privileged Estates or orders), a period of statolatry is necessary
and indeed opportune. This "statolatry" is nothing other than the
normal form of "State life", or at least of initiation to autonomous
State life and to the creation of a "civil society" which it was not
historically possible to create before the ascent to independent
State life. However, this kind of "statolatry" must not be abandoned
to itself, must not, especially, become theoretical fanaticism or be
conceived of as "perpetual". It must be criticised, precisely in order
to develop and produce new forms of State life, in which the
initiative of individuals and groups will have a "State" character,

*' The Einaudi edition gives esigenza = "need", instead of Gramsci's original
eslstenza = "existence".

STATE AND CIVIL SOCIETY

269

even if it is not due to the "government of the functionaries" (make
State life become "spontaneous"). [1931-32]

"merits" of the ruling classes

In view of the fact that the identity State/class is not easy to
understand, there is something strange about the way in which a
government (State) is able to reflect back upon the class it repre-
sents, as a merit and a source of prestige, the fact that it has finally
done what should have been done for fifty years and more — and
which should therefore be a demerit and a source of shame. 67 One
lets a man starve until he is fifty; when he is fifty, one finally notices
him. In private life, such behaviour would warrant a good kicking.
In the case of the State, it appears to be a "merit". Not merely
that, but the fact that one "washes oneself" at the age of fifty
appears to be a sign of superiority over other men of fifty who
have always washed. One hears this kind of thing said about
drainage schemes, public works, roads, etc., i.e. about a country's
basic social equipment. The fact that a country provides itself with
this equipment, with which others have provided themselves in
their day, is loudly acclaimed and trumpeted forth, and the others
are told: do as much, if you can. But the others cannot, because
they have already done so in their day, and this is presented as a
sign of their "impotence".

At all events, the fact that the State/government, conceived as
an autonomous force, should reflect back its prestige upon the class
upon which it is based, is of the greatest practical and theoretical
importance, and deserves to be analysed fully if one wants a more
realistic concept of the State itself. Moreover, this phenomenon is
not something exceptional, or characteristic of one kind of State
only. It can, it seems, be incorporated into the function of elites
or vanguards, i.e. of parties, in relation to the class which they
represent. This class, often, as an economic fact (which is what
every class is essentially) might not enjoy any intellectual or moral
prestige, i.e. might be incapable of establishing its hegemony, hence
of founding a State. Hence the function of monarchies, even in
the modern era; hence, too, in particular, the phenomenon
(especially in England and in Germany) whereby the leading

87 A clear reference to fascist propaganda extolling the regime's achievements
in the field of public works, etc. In England in the 'thirties, approval for fascist
Italy often took the form of "at least Mussolini has got the trains to run on
time", etc.

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personnel of the bourgeois class organised into a State can be
constituted by elements of the old feudal classes, who have been
dispossessed of their traditional economic predominance (Junkers
and Lords), but who have found new forms of economic power in
industry and in the banks, and who have not fused with the
bourgeoisie but have remained united to their traditional social
group.' 8 [1933]

HISTORICAL BELLES-LETTRES

The position taken up in practice by Croce is an essential element of
any analysis or critique of his philosophical position, indeed it is
the fundamental element. In Croce, philosophy and "ideology"
finally become identical, and philosophy is revealed as nothing
other than a "practical instrument" for organisation and action —
for organising a party, indeed an international of parties, and for
a course of action in practice. Croce's speech to the Oxford philo-
sophical congress 69 was in fact a political manifesto, for an inter-
national union of the great intellectuals of all nations — especially
those of Europe. Moreover, this undeniably might become an
important party, with a considerable role to play.

Broadly speaking, one can already discern in the world of today
a phenomenon which resembles the rift between "spiritual" and
"temporal" in the Middle Ages — but a phenomenon that is far
more complex than its predecessor, to the extent that modern life
itself is more complex. To an ever-increasing extent, regressive and
conservative social groupings are being reduced to their initial
economic-corporate stage, while the progressive and innovatory
groupings are still in their initial, precisely economic-corporate
phase. The traditional intellectuals are detaching themselves from
the social grouping to which they have hitherto given the highest
and most comprehensive form — hence the most extensive and
perfect consciousness of the modern State. In so doing, they are
accomplishing an act of incalculable historical significance; they are
marking and ratifying the crisis of the State in its decisive form.
But these intellectuals neither have the organisation which the
Church possessed, nor anything comparable to it, and in that
respect the crisis of today is more acute than that of the Middle
Ages; the latter lasted several centuries, up to the French Revolu-

68 See note 6 on p. 216.

•* Croce addressed the Seventh International Philosophy Congress at Oxford
in September 1930 on "Anti-History". See note 19 on p. 137.

STATE AND CIVIL SOCIETY

271

tion, when the social grouping that had been economically the
motor force in Europe throughout the millennium was able to
present itself as an integral "State", possessing all the intellectual
and moral forces it needed to organise a complete and perfect
society. Today, the "spiritual" which is detaching itself from the
"temporal", and distinguishing itself as autonomous of the latter,
is something disorganic, lacking a centre, an unstable diaspora of
great cultural personalities, "without a Pope" and without a
territory. This process of disintegration of the modern State is,
however, far more catastrophic than the mediaeval historical pro-
cess, which was disintegrative and integrative at the same time,
given the particular grouping which was the motor of the historical
process itself, and given the type of State which had existed since
the beginning of the millennium in Europe — a State which was
innocent of the centralisation of today, and which could be called
"federative of the dominant classes" rather than the State of a
single dominant class.

It is worth considering the extent to which Gentile's "actualism" 70
corresponds to the positive phase of the State, whereas Croce
provides the opposition to this. The concept of "unity in the act"
allows Gentile to recognise as "history" what is anti-history for
Croce. 71 For Gentile history is entirely State history, while for
Croce it is "ethical-political". In other words, Croce seeks to main-
tain a distinction between civil society and political society, between
hegemony and dictatorship; the great intellectuals exercise hege-
mony, which presupposes a certain collaboration, i.e. an active and
voluntary (free) consent, i.e. a liberal, democratic regime. Gentile
sees the economic-corporate phase as an ethical phase within the
historical act: hegemony and dictatorship are indistinguishable,
force and consent are simply equivalent; one cannot distinguish
political society from civil society; only the State, and of course
the State-as-government, exists, etc.

The same conflicting positions which emerge in the philosophical
sphere, between Croce and Gentile, appear again in the field of
political economy, between Einaudi and the followers of Gentile.*
Spirito's 72 concept of citizen as State functionary derives directly
from the absence of separation between political and civil society,
between political hegemony and State-political government. In

" See note 70 on p. 424.
11 See note 6 on p. 128.

* See the Einaudi-Benini-Spirito polemic in Muooi Studi, 1930.
" See notes 59 on p. 257 and 120 on p. 470.

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other words, it derives from the anti-historicity or ahistoricity of
the conception of the State that is implicit in Spirito's position,
despite his peremptory assertions and polemical rantings. Spirito
refuses to recognise that, since every form of property is linked to
the State, even for the classical economists the latter intervenes at
every moment of economic life — which is a continuous web of
transfers of property. Spirito's position, concretely, represents a
return to the pure economicity of which he accuses his opponents.
It is interesting to note that this position contains the essence of
"Americanism", 73 since America has not yet emerged from the
economic-corporate phase which Europe passed through in the
Middle Ages — in other words, has not yet created a conception of
the world or a group of great intellectuals to lead the people within
the ambit of civil society. In this sense it is true that America is
under the influence of Europe, and of European history. (This
question of the basic form of the State in the U.S.A. is a very
complex one, but the kernel of the question seems to me to be
precisely this.) [1930-32]

"subversive"

The purely Italian concept of "subversive" 74 can be explained as
follows: a negative rather than a positive class position — the
"people" is aware that it has enemies, but only identifies them
empirically as the so-called signori. 75 Contained in the concept of
signore there is much of the old dislike of country for town; dress
is a fundamental element of distinction. There is also dislike of
officialdom — the only form in which the State is perceived. The
peasant, and even the small farmer, hates the civil servant; he does
not hate the State, for he does not understand it. He sees the civil
servant as a "signore", even if he is himself in fact better off eco-
nomically; hence the apparent contradiction whereby the signore is
often at the same time a morto di fame 16 as far as the peasant is

73 See "Americanism and Fordism" on pp. 277-318.

'* The term sovversivo was used by both socialists and fascists to describe
themselves, as well as by others to describe them — which gives an idea of the
difference between it and the English equivalent "subversive". See, for example,
Gramsci's article in Ordine JVuovo, 22 June 1921, "Sowersismo Reazionario" , in
which he comments sarcastically on Mussolini's motives for stressing his "sub-
versive" past in a speech to the Chamber of Deputies, and suggests that Mussolini
was never so very subversive in reality.

" "Gentleman" would be the nearest English equivalent of signore, but since
this note is directly on the concept itself, the word has been left in the Italian.

,e Literally "starveling", the term has overtones of both pity and contempt.
See following paragraph.

STATE AND CIVIL SOCIETY

273

concerned. This "generic" hatred is still "semi-feudal" rather than
modern in character, and cannot be taken as evidence of class
consciousness — merely as the first glimmer of such consciousness,
in other words, merely as the basic negative, polemical attitude.
Not only does the people have no precise consciousness of its own
historical identity, it is not even conscious of the historical identity
or the exact limits of its adversary. The lower classes, historically
on the defensive, can only achieve self-awareness via a series of
negations, via their consciousness of the identity and class limits
of their enemy; but it is precisely this process which has not yet
come to the surface, at least not nationally.

A further element towards understanding the concept of "sub-
versive" is furnished by the stratum known typically as the morti di
fame- The morti difame are not a homogeneous stratum, and serious
mistakes can be made if they are identified abstractly. In the
village, and in the small urban centres of certain agricultural
regions, there exist two distinct strata of morti di fame: the day-
labourers, and the petty intellectuals. The essential characteristic
of the day-labourers is not their economic situation but their
intellectual and moral condition. The typical peasant of these
regions is the smallholder or the more primitive share-cropper
(whose rent takes the form of a third, half, or even two-thirds of
his crop, depending on the fertility and location of his holding),
who owns a few tools, a pair of oxen, and a cottage which he has
often built himself on days when he is not working, and who has
obtained the necessary capital either by emigrating for a few years,
or by spending a few years "down the pits" or serving in the
carabinieri, 77 etc., or as a servant for a big landowner — i.e. by
"contriving" and saving. The day-labourer on the other hand,
unable or unwilling to "contrive", possesses nothing, is a morto di
fame, because day labour is scarce and irregular.

The petit-bourgeois morto difame came originally from the rural
bourgeoisie. Property gets broken up among large families until it
vanishes altogether, but the members of this class are not prepared
to work with their hands. In this way there is formed a famished
stratum of aspirants to minor municipal appointments, as clerks,
messengers, etc. This stratum constitutes a disruptive element in
the life of the countryside, always thirsting for changes (elections,

" The carabinieri, Founded in Piedmont in 18 14 as a military force For main-
taining internal security, after the Risorgimento became a national police force,
organised on a military footing and independent from the ordinary police. This
is still the case today.

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etc.), and furnishes the local "subversive"; since it is fairly
numerous, it has a certain importance. It allies itself especially
with the rural bourgeoisie against the peasantry, and organises the
morti difame to serve its interests. These strata exist in every region,
and have ramifications in the towns, too, where they merge into the
criminal underworld or into the shifting milieu which surrounds it.
Many petty clerks in the towns originate socially from these strata,
and conserve the arrogant mentality of the impoverished nobleman,
of the landowner who endures work under compulsion. The
"subversivism" of these strata has two faces, one turned to the left
and one to the right, but the left face is simply a means of blackmail;
at the decisive moments they always move to the right, and their
desperate "courage" always prefers to have the carabinieri on their
side.

A further element to examine is the so-called "internationalism"
of the Italian people, which is linked to the concept of "sub-
versivism". In reality, this is a kind of vague "cosmopolitanism",
related to certain easily identifiable historical phenomena: to the
cosmopolitanism and the universalism of the Catholic Middle
Ages, centred on Italy and preserved through the absence of any
Italian "political and national history". Little national or State
consciousness in the modern sense. I have noted elsewhere 78 that
there has existed, and still exists, a particular form of Italian
chauvinism, more widespread than might at first appear. The two
observations are not contradictory. In Italy, political, territorial
and national unity enjoy a scanty tradition (or perhaps no tradition
at all, since before 1870 Italy was never a unified entity, and even
the name Italy, which in Roman times meant Southern and
Central Italy up to the Magra and the Rubicon, during the Middle
Ages lost ground to the name of Longobardia: see the study by
C. Cipolla on the name "Italia", published in the Atti del-
I'Accademia di Torino). However, Italy did have, and preserve, a
cultural tradition going back to the period 1 300-1 700 — not, how-
ever, to classical antiquity, although humanism and renaissance
both claimed a continuity with the classical era. This cultural
unity was the basis, and a very weak one at that, of the Risorgimento
and of national unity; it served to group the most active and
intelligent strata of the population around the bourgeoisie, and it is
still the substratum of popular nationalism. As a consequence of
the absence in this sentiment of politico-military or politico-

,s In a note on d'Annunzio, PP, p. 13.

STATE AND CIVIL SOCIETY

economic elements, i.e. of the elements which are at the basis of
French, German or American nationalist psychology, it comes about
that many so-called "subversives" and "internationalists" are
"chauvinists" in this sense, without being aware of any contradic-
tion. What one has to note if one wants to understand the virulence
which this cultural chauvinism sometimes assumes is the following :
the fact that in Italy a great scientific, artistic and literary flowering
coincided with the period of political, military and State decadence.
(Sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Explain this phenomenon.
Noble, courtiy culture, i.e. when the bourgeoisie of the Communes
was already decadent, and wealth had become usurial rather than
productive, with concentrations of "luxury", the prelude to total
economic decadence.) The concept of revolutionary and of inter-
nationalist, in the modern sense of the word, is correlative with the
precise concept of State and of class: little understanding of the
State means little class consciousness (and understanding of the
State exists not only when one defends it, but also when one
attacks it in order to overthrow it) ; hence low level of effectiveness
of the parties, etc. Gypsy bands or political nomadism are not
dangerous phenomena, 79 and similarly Italian subversivism and
internationalism were not dangerous. Popular "subversivism" corre-
lates with "subversivism" at the top, i.e. with the fact of there
never having existed a "rule of law", but only a politics charac-
terised by absolute power and by cliques around individuals or
groups.

All these observations, naturally, cannot be taken as categorical
or absolute: they constitute an attempt to describe certain aspects
of a situation. Firstly, in order to be able the better to evaluate the
activity undertaken to change it (or the non-activity, i.e. the failure
to understand one's own task). Secondly, in order to give greater
prominence to those groups which rose above it, as a result of
having understood the situation and modified it within their own
ranks. [1930]

"wave of materialism" and "crisis of authority"

That aspect of the modern crisis which is bemoaned as a "wave of
materialism" is related to what is called the "crisis of authority".
If the ruling class has lost its consensus, i.e. is no longer "leading" 80

79 For the term "gypsy" see "Voluntarism and Social Masses" on pp. 202-4
and note 109 on p. 204.

80 See note 5 on p. 55.

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but only "dominant", exercising coercive force alone, this means
precisely that the great masses have become detached from their
traditional ideologies, and no longer believe what they used to
believe previously, etc. The crisis consists precisely in the fact that
the old is dying and the new cannot be born; in this interregnum
a great variety of morbid symptoms appear. N.B. this paragraph
should be completed by some observations which I made on the
so-called "problem of the younger generation" 81 — a problem
caused by the "crisis of authority" of the old generations in
power, and by the mechanical impediment that has been imposed
on those who could exercise hegemony, which prevents them from
carrying out their mission.

The problem is the following: can a rift between popular masses
and ruling ideologies as serious as that which emerged after the
war be "cured" by the simple exercise of force, preventing the new
ideologies from imposing themselves? Will the interregnum, the
crisis whose historically normal solution is blocked in this way,
necessarily be resolved in favour of a restoration of the old ? Given
the character of the ideologies, that can be ruled out — yet not in
an absolute sense. Meanwhile physical depression will lead in the
long run to a widespread scepticism, and a new "arrangement"
will be found — in which, for example, Catholicism will even more
become simply Jesuitism, etc.

From this too one may conclude that highly favourable con-
tions are being created for an unprecedented expansion of historical
materialism. The very poverty which at first inevitably characterises
historical materialism as a theory diffused widely among the masses
will help it to spread. The death of the old ideologies takes the form
of scepticism with regard to all theories and general formulae; of
application to the pure economic fact (earnings, etc.), and to a
form of politics which is not simply realistic in fact (this is always
the case) but which is cynical in its immediate manifestation
(remember the story of the Prelude to Mackiavelli, 82 written perhaps
under the influence of Professor Rensi, which at a certain moment —
in 1921 or 1922 — extolled slavery as a modern means of political
economy) .

But this reduction to economics and to politics means precisely
a reduction of the highest superstructures to the level of those which
adhere more closely to the structure itself- — in other words, the
possibility and necessity of creating a new culture. [1930]

•1 PP., pp. 104-7.

81 By Mussolini.

3

AMERICANISM AND FORDISM

INTRODUCTION

Americanism and Fordism is unique among Gramsci's prison writings.
The problems it sets out to analyse were contemporary ones,
brought into prominence by events that had taken place since his
imprisonment — the development of the corporate (fascist) economy,
the depression, the first Soviet Five Year Plan. Yet, despite his
isolation, he nevertheless succeeds in this essay in laying the ground-
work for a persuasive analysis of trends in social and economic
development which had passed by most of his active contemporaries
and whose importance is only now becoming clear.

The basic question Gramsci asks himself in Americanism and
Fordism is this: were the changes taking place within the world of
production at the time he was writing of such importance as to
constitute the beginnings of a new historical epoch, or were they
merely a conjunction of events of no lasting significance? No
definitive answer is offered, nor could one be demanded, but it is
clear from the way he approaches the question, linking together
features of the superstructures such as prohibition or the regulation
of sexuality with changes in the socio-economic base, projecting each
trend into the future as well as examining its roots in the past,
that he regarded "Americanism" as a symptom of an historical
development within the relations of production of the utmost
importance, from which there could be no turning back.

The starting-point of Americanism and Fordism is the impact of
America and American productive methods on Europe after the
First World War. The fact that America had never known a
feudal phase and was therefore free of parasitic residues of older
modes of production has always intrigued European Marxists,
ever since the days of Marx himself. In the early days of the Soviet
Union much attention was paid to the American phenomenon, to
the efficiency of American productive technique and even to the
apparent democracy of American enterprise. There was also a
general interest in the Soviet Union in the possibility of applying
American ideas, notably those of Frederick Taylor on "Scientific
Management", under Socialist relations of production. For Gramsci,
the full-scale introduction of Americanism into Italy would have a
different significance. It would represent a high point of capitalist
development, the abolition of the last residues of feudalism.

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Opposition to Americanism, as he saw it, came mostly from back-
ward economic groups such as the "rural bourgeoisie" of petty
landowners and their attendant parasites, but also from a reac-
tionary intelligentsia, stuffed with myths about its cultural heritage
and unable to accept its own uselessness and impending super-
cession by more vital forces. The working class, by contrast, he
saw as not opposed to Americanism as such, nor even to its
attendant effects in social life, but rather to the specific form it
would take in conditions of intensified economic exploitation and
authoritarian cultural repression. The victory of Americanism
might also affect the political superstructures of fascism, now more
and more embroiled (since the Concordat) with the Catholic
Church, and increasingly torn between notions of a new order and
a commitment to the most retrograde elements of culture and
society.

An essential, though unspoken, premiss of Americanism and
Fordism is that the revolutionary working-class movement was in a
phase of retrenchment and defeat throughout the capitalist world.
In the absence of an antagonistic revolutionary force any changes
taking place within the mode of production could at most constitute
what Gramsci, here and elsewhere in the Quaderni, terms a "passive
revolution". Changes would take place, leading to the suppression
of certain contradictions. But new contradictions would appear in
their place. Not the least of the merits of Americanism and Fordism
lies in its recognition of the fluidity of the situation and the com-
plexity of the contradictions generated. Although in general it
foresees a development, already prefigured in fascist Italy, in the
direction of a more achieved form of state monopoly capitalism, it
emphatically rejects any undialectical pessimism and leaves open
the question of how the contradictions that this new development
of capitalism will bring about will themselves be contested in
their turn.

AMERICANISM AND FORDISM

A series of problems requires to be examined under the general
and somewhat conventional heading "Americanism and Fordism".
But first of all one should take account of the basic fact that solutions
to these problems must necessarily be put forward within the con-
tradictory conditions of modern society, which create complications,
absurd positions, and moral and economic crises often tending
towards catastrophe.

In generic terms one could say that Americanism and Fordism
derive from an inherent necessity to achieve the organisation of a
planned economy, and that the various problems examined here
should be the links of the chain marking the passage from the old
economic individualism to the planned economy. Problems arise
from the various forms of resistance to this evolution encountered
by the process of development, the source of the problems being
difficulties inherent in both the societas rerum and the societas
hominum. 1

The fact that a progressive initiative has been set in train by a
particular social force is not without fundamental consequences:
the "subaltern" forces, which have to be "manipulated" and
rationalised to serve new ends, naturally put up a resistance. But
resistance is also offered by certain sectors of the dominant forces,
or at least by forces which are allied to those which are dominant.
Prohibition, which in the United States was a necessary condition
for developing a new type of worker suitable to "Fordised" industry,
has failed as a result of the opposition of marginal and still backward
forces and certainly not because of the opposition of either the
industrialists or the workers (etc.).

A catalogue of some of the essentially most important or interest-
ing problems, even if at first sight they do not appear to be in the
forefront:

1. The replacement of the present plutocratic stratum by a new
mechanism of accumulation and distribution of finance capital
based directly on industrial production.

2. The question of sex.

3. The question of whether Americanism can constitute an
historical "epoch", that is, whether it can determine a gradual
evolution of the same type as the "passive revolution" examined

1 "The society of things and the society of men" : i.e. the natural and human
worlds.

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elsewhere and typical of the last century, 2 or whether on the other
hand it does not simply represent the molecular accumulation of
elements destined to produce an "explosion", that is, an upheaval
on the French pattern.

4. The question of the "rationalisation" of the demographic
composition of Europe.

5. The question of whether this evolution must have its starting-
point within the industrial and productive world, or whether it
can come from the outside, through the cautious but massive
construction of a formal juridical arm which can guide from the
outside the necessary evolution of the productive apparatus.

6. The question of the so-called "high wages" paid by Fordised
and rationalised industry.

7. Fordism as the ultimate stage in the process of progressive
attempts by industry to overcome the law of the tendency of the
rate of profit to fall. 3

8. Psychoanalysis and its enormous diffusion since the war, as the
expression of the increased moral coercion exercised by the
apparatus of State and society on single individuals, and of the
pathological crisis determined by this coercion.

9. Rotary Clubs and Free Masonry.

RATIONALISATION OF THE DEMOGRAPHIC COMPOSITION OF EUROPE

In Europe the various attempts which have been made to introduce
certain aspects of Americanism and Fordism have been due to the
old plutocratic stratum which would like to reconcile what, until
proved to the contrary, appear to be irreconcilables: on the one
hand the old, anachronistic, demographic social structure of
Europe, and on the other hand an ultra-modern form of production

2 "Passive revolution." For Gramsci's development of this concept, see
pp. 10&-114.

* "Law of the Tendency", etc. See Marx, Capital, Vol. Ill, Chaps. 13-15-
In Marxist economic analysis, the rate of profit is determined by the rate of
exploitation (the ratio of unpaid, surplus labour to paid, necessary labour) and
by the organic composition of capital (the ratio of capital expended on materials,
use of machinery, etc., to capital expended on wages). As the rate of exploitation
rises the rate of profit tends to rise, but as the organic composition of capital rises
the rate of profit tends to fall. In Capital, Vol. Ill, Marx argues that the long-run
tendency of capitalist accumulation is to raise the organic composition of capital
to such an extent that the rate of profit will fall even if the rate of exploitation is
rising. Attempts to overcome the tendency require therefore a very considerable
rise in the rate of exploitation, which Gramsci sees as happening through
"Fordist" methods of intensification and rationalisation of labour.

AMERICANISM AND FORDISM

28l

a nd of working methods — such as is offered by the most advanced
American variety, the industry of Henry Ford.

For this reason, the introduction of Fordism encounters so much
"intellectual" and "moral" resistance, and takes place in par-
ticularly brutal and insidious forms, and by means of the most
extreme coercion. To put it crudely, Europe would like to have a
full barrel and a drunken wife, to have all the benefits which
Fordism brings to its competitive power while retaining its army
of parasites who, by consuming vast sums of surplus value, aggravate
initial costs and reduce competitive power on the international
market. The reaction of Europe to Americanism merits, therefore,
close examination. From its analysis can be derived more than one
element necessary for the understanding of the present situation of
a number of states in the old world and the political events of the
post-war period.

Americanism, in its most developed form, requires a preliminary
condition which has not attracted the attention of the American
writers who have treated the problems arising from it, since in
America it exists quite "naturally". This condition could be
called "a rational demographic composition" and consists in the
fact that there do not exist numerous classes with no essential
function in the world of production, in other words classes which
are purely parasitic. European "tradition", European "civilisation",
is, conversely, characterised precisely by the existence of such
classes, created by the "richness" and "complexity" of past history.
This past history has left behind a heap of passive sedimentations
produced by the phenomenon of the saturation and fossilisation
of civil-service personnel and intellectuals, of clergy and landowners,
piratical commerce and the professional (and later conscript, but
for the officers always professional) army. One could even say that
the more historic a nation the more numerous and burdensome are
these sedimentations of idle and useless masses living on "their
ancestral patrimony", pensioners of economic history. Statistics of
these economically passive elements (in a social sense) are very hard
to work out because it is impossible to find a "heading" under
which they can be defined for the purposes of immediate research.
But useful indications can be derived indirectly, for example, from
the existence of specific forms of national life. The considerable
number of large, medium-sized (or even small) agglomerations of
an urban type with no industry (with no factories) is one such
indication and one of the most significant.

On the so-called "mystery of Naples": it is worth recalling the

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observations made by Goethe about Naples and the "consoling
moral conclusions" which Giustino Fortunato drew from them. 4
Goethe was right to demolish the legend of the organic vagabondry
[lazzaronismo]* of the Neapolitans, and to point out that, on the
contrary, they are very active and industrious. But the question
consists in examining the actual result of their industry. It is not
in itself productive, nor is it directed towards satisfying the needs
and demands of the productive classes. Naples is the city where
the majority of Southern landowners, whether members of the
nobility or not, spend the income from their estates. Around some
tens of thousands of these landowning families, of greater or lesser
importance, together with their immediate retinues of servants and
lackeys, is organised the practical life of a large part of the city,
its artisanal industries, its itinerant trades and the incredible
way in which the immediate supply of goods and services is split
up among the multitude of layabouts who hang around the streets.
Another important part of the city is organised around transport
and the wholesale trade, "Productive" industry, in the sense of
one that creates and accumulates new goods, is relatively small
despite the fact that in the official statistics Naples is classified as
the fourth industrial city of Italy, after Milan, Turin and Genoa.

This socio-economic structure of Naples (on which it is now
possible to have reasonably exact information, thanks to the activi-
ties of the provincial councils of the corporate economy) 8 explains
a great deal of the history of the city of Naples, so full of apparent
contradictions and thorny political problems. The phenomenon of

4 Johann Wolfgang Goethe, Italienische Reise. The "conclusions" drawn by
Giustino Fortunato (1848 1932), a noted "meridionalist" intellectual and
politician, are to be found in Fortunato's translation of the Neapolitan section
(Leltere da Napoli, di Vdfgango Goethe, tradotte da GF, Naples, 1917).

* Fortunato's short work on Goethe and his judgement on the Neapolitans
has been republished by the Bibliografia Editrice di Rieti in the collection "Quademi
Critici" directed by Domenico Petrini. On Fortunato's short work, worth reading
is Luigi Einaudi's review in La Riforma Sociale, perhaps 1912. 6

e Actually 1918. Subsequently reprinted in Le Lotte del Lavoro, Turin, 1924,
pp. 267-76.

* Corporate here is more or less a synonym (or euphemism) for fascist, the
Italian economy having been organised from 1926 in "Corporations", including
labour corporations which effectively took the place of the trade unions. Else-
where in this text when Gramsci speaks about the "corporate trend" {indirizv
corporative/) he is sometimes referring not to Fascism as such but to the organised
ideology of corporatism which was already a major force in pre-fascist Italy,
having supporters among progressive Catholics and reformist Socialists as well
as among rationalising elements of Italian capitalism. Needless to say the form
the corporate economy took under Mussolini, particularly after 1930, was not
altogether that intended by the movement's non-fascist originators.

AMERICANISM AND FORDISM 283

Naples is repeated on a large scale in Palermo and Rome, and also
in a number of cities (the famous hundred cities) 7 not only in
Southern Italy and the islands, but in Central and even in Northern
Italy (Bologna, to a certain extent, Parma, Ferrara, etc.) . For much
of the population of cities of this type, one can recall the proverb :
"Where a horse shits a hundred sparrows feed."

The fact that has not yet been properly studied is this: that the
ownership of medium-sized and small property in the rural areas
is not in the hands of the peasant cultivators but of a small-town
bourgeoisie and that the land is given over to primitive share-
cropping [mezzadria], that is, rented in exchange for natural goods
and services, or is leased against rent [enfiteust]. This means that
there exists, in proportion to gross landed income, an enormous
bulk of petty and middle bourgeoisie living on "pensions" and
"rents", which has created, in a species of economic literature
truly worthy of Candide, the monstrous figure of the so-called
"producers of savings", an economically unproductive stratum which
not only extracts its own sustenance from the primitive labour of
a specific number of peasants, but also manages to save. This is
the most hideous and unhealthy means of capital accumulation,
because it is founded on the iniquitous usurial exploitation of a
peasantry kept on the verge of malnutrition, and because it is
inordinately expensive, since the small saving of capital is offset by
the incredible expenditure which is often necessary to maintain a
high standard of living for such a great mass of absolute parasites.
(The historical phenomenon whereby, in the Italian peninsula,
since the fall of the mediaeval Communes and the decline of the
spirit of capitalist initiative among the urban bourgeoisie, this
abnormal and stagnation-creating situation has grown, up, wave by
wave, has been described by the historian Niccolo Rodolico as a
"return to the earth", and has even been taken as an index of
healthy national progress, such is the power of catch-phrases to
annul the critical sense.)

Another source of absolute parasitism has always been the State
administration. Renato Spaventa has reckoned that in Italy one
tenth of the population (four million inhabitants) live off the state
budget. Even today it happens that men who are still relatively
young, not much above forty, in excellent health and at the height
of their physical and intellectual capacities, after twenty-five years
of state service cease to devote themselves to any productive activity

7 "Hundred Cities". See note 61 on p. 91.

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but make do with more or less substantial pensions. However, a
worker can only enjoy his pension from the age of sixty-five, and
for a peasant there is no limit to the age up to which he may
continue to work. (One result of this is that the average Italian is
surprised when he hears it said that an American multi-millionaire
continues to be active right up to the last day of his conscious life.)
If in any family a priest becomes a canon, immediately, for the
entire clan, "manual labour" becomes a "disgrace": the most one
should do is to engage in commerce.

The composition had already been rendered "unhealthy" by long-
term emigration and by the low rate of employment of women in
work productive of new goods. The relationship between "poten-
tially" active and passve population was one of the most unfavour-
able in Europe.* It is even more unfavourable if one takes into
account the following:

1. Endemic diseases (malaria, etc.) which reduce the average
work potential of the labour force.

2. The chronic state of malnutrition of many of the lower strata
of the peasantry (as documented in the researches of Professor
Mario Camis published in La Riforma Sociale in 1926). 8 National
averages of living standards should be broken down into class
averages: if the national average hardly attains the standard
scientifically established as indispensable, it follows obviously that
a not inconsiderable stratum of the population lives in a state of
chronic mulnutrition . In the Senate discussion on the budget for
1929/30, Senator Mussolini affirmed that in some regions people
live exclusively on wild plants and vegetables for whole seasons of
the year.**

3. The endemic unemployment which exists in a number of
agricultural regions and does not figure in official reports.

4. The really remarkable segment of the population which is
absolutely parasitic and which requires for its service the labour of
another immense and indirectly parasitic mass; and the semi-
parasitic segment, which is so because it multiplies to an abnormal
and unhealthy degree subordinate economic activities like commerce
and intermediary functions in general.

* Cf. the research into this subject by Professor Mortara, for example, in
Prospetlive Economic he of 1922.

8 M. Camis, Intorno alle condizioni economiche del popolo itdiano. "La Riforma
Sociale", June 1926.

** Cf. the Atti Parlamentari for the session, and the speech by Senator Ugo
Ancona, whose reactionary fancies were smartly slapped down by the head of the
Government [Mussolini],

AMERICANISM AND FORDISM 285

This situation is not unique to Italy; to a greater or lesser extent
it exists also in all countries of Old Europe and it exists in an even
worse form in India and China, which explains the historical
stagnation of those countries and their politico-military impotence.
(In the examination of this problem, what is immediately in
question is not the form of economico-social organisation, but the
rationality of the proportional relationships between the various
sectors of the population in the existing social system. Every system
has its own law of fixed proportions 9 in its demographic composition,
its own "optimum" equilibrium and forms of disequilibrium which,
if not redressed, by appropriate legislation, can be catastrophic in
themselves in that, apart from any other disintegrative element, they
dry up the sources of economic life.)

America does not have "great historical and cultural traditions";
but neither does it have this leaden burden to support. This is one
of the main reasons (and certainly more important than its so-called
natural wealth) for its formidable accumulation of capital which
has taken place in spite of the superior living standard enjoyed by
the popular classes compared with Europe. The non-existence of
viscous parasitic sedimentations left behind by past phases of history
has allowed industry, and commerce in particular, to develop on
a sound basis. It also allows a continual reduction of the economic
function of transport and trade to the level of a genuinely subaltern
activity of production. Indeed, it has led to the attempt to absorb
these activities into productive activity itself. Recall here the
experiments conducted by Ford and to the economies made by his
firm through direct management of transport and distribution of
the product. These economies affected production costs and per-
mitted higher wages and lower selling prices. Since these pre-
liminary conditions existed, already rendered rational by historical
evolution, it was relatively easy to rationalise production and
labour by a skilful combination of force (destruction of working-
class trade unionism on a territorial basis) and persuasion (high
wages, various social benefits, extremely subtle ideological and
political propaganda) and thus succeed in making the whole life
of the nation revolve around production. Hegemony here is born
in the factory and requires for its exercise only a minute quantity of
professional political and ideological intermediaries. The pheno-
menon of the "masses" which so struck Romier 10 is nothing but

9 "Fixed proportions." See p. 191.

10 Lucien Romier, Qui sera le maitre, Europe ou Amiriquc? Paris, 1 927.

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the form taken by this "rationalised" society in which the "struc-
ture" dominates the superstructures more immediately and in
which the. latter are also "rationalised" (simplified and reduced
in number).

Rotary Clubs and Free Masonry: Rotary is a Free Masonry
without the petits bourgeois and without the petit-bourgois
mentality. America has Rotary and the YMCA; Europe has Free
Masonry and the Jesuits. Attempts to introduce the YMCA into
Italy; help given by Italian industry to these attempts (financial
aid from Agnelli and the violent reactions of the Catholics);
Agnelli's attempts to absorb the Ordine Nuovo group 11 which upheld
its own type of "Americanism" in a form acceptable to the workers.

In America rationalisation has determined the need to elaborate
a new type of man suited to the new type of work and productive
process. This elaboration is still only in its initial phase and therefore
(apparently) still idyllic. It is still at the stage of psycho-physical
adaptation to the new industrial structure, aimed for through high
wages. Up to the present (until the 1929 crash) there has not been,
except perhaps sporadically, any flowering of the "superstructure".
In other words, the fundamental question of hegemony has not yet
been posed. The struggle is conducted with arms taken from the
old European arsenal, bastardised and therefore anachronistic com-
pared with the development of "things." The struggle taking place
in America, as described by Philip, 12 is still in defence of craft
rights against "industrial liberty". In other words, it is similar to
the struggle that took place in Europe in the eighteenth century,
although in different conditions. American workers unions are,
more than anything else, the corporate expression of the rights of
qualified crafts and therefore the industrialists' attempts to curb them
have a certain "progressive" aspect. The absence of the European
historical phase, marked even in the economic field by the French

11 Giovanni Agnelli, the "progressive" head of FIAT, made various attempts
in the immediately post-war years to buy off the intense militancy of the workers
and enlist support for the rationalisation and intensification of production in
the FIAT works in Turin. In October 1920, after the occupation of the factories,
he went so far as to put forward a scheme of co-operative management, which
was decisively rejected by the workers under Communist leadership. The
Communist workers, centred around the "Ordine Nuovo", had been in the
forefront of the struggle setting up the Workers' Councils which took over the
running of the factory during the September occupation, and it was Agnelli's
hope that the Ordine Nuovo group could be won over to his own class-collabora-
tionist version of the councils. (Gramsci's account of the Agnelli episode is to be
found in Alcuni Temi delta Questione Meridionale (1926, GF, pp. 804.-809). See
also the article in Avanti!, 5 February 1919, GF, pp. 357-359.)

12 Andre Philip. Le Probleme ouvrier aux Etats-Unis, Paris, 1929.

AMERICANISM AND FORDISM

287

Revolution, has left the American popular masses in a backward
state. To this should be added the absence of national homogeneity,
the mixture of race-cultures, the negro question.

In Italy there have been the beginnings of a Fordist fanfare:
exaltation of big cities, overall planning for the Milan conurbation,
etc.; the affirmation that capitalism is only at its beginnings and
that it is necessary to prepare for it grandiose patterns of develop-
ment (on this see some articles by Schiavi in La Riforma Sociale).
But afterwards came a conversion to ruralism, 13 the disparagement
of the cities typical of the Enlightenment, exaltation of the artisanat
and of idyllic patriarchalism, reference to craft rights and a struggle
against industrial liberty. All the same, even though the develop-
ment is slow and full of understandable caution, one cannot say
that the conservative side, the side that represents old European
culture with all its train of parasites, has not encountered opposition.
(Interesting from this point of view is the tendency represented by
Nuovi Studi and Critica Fascista and by the intellectual centre for
corporate studies organised at the University of Pisa.) De Man's
book 14 is also in its way an expression of these problems which are
disturbing the old European bone-structure, but it is an expression
without greatness and is unattached to any of the major historical
forces which are striving for mastery of the world.

super-city and super-country 15
Excerpts from LaFiera Letteraria of 15 January 1928. From Giovanni
Papini: 16

"The city does not create, but consumes. Just as it is the
emporium where congregate the goods seized from the country-

18 "Ruralism." A notion which became current after Mussolini's call in 1927
to "ruralise [ruralizzarJ] Italy".

14 Henri De Man. Au deld du Marxisme, Paris, 1924. The title "Beyond Marxism"
is deceptive. As Gramsci points out, De Man's book is little more than a return
to pre-Marxian humanism, with positivistic accretions and propped up by
reference to the "psychological and ethical values" of the working class movement
(MS, pp. 1 10-1 14. See also p. 430 of this volume and notes 74 on p. 376 and 56
on p. 160.

16 Super-City and Super Country (Stracitta e Strapaese). This mainly literary
polemic in the 1 920's opposed (among others) Massimo Bontempelli and Corrado
Alvaro, on the side of urbanism and cosmopolitanism, to Curzio Malaparte,
Giuseppe Ungaretti and Giovanni Papini, on the side of nationalism and ruralism.
As Benjamin Cr6mieux pointed out at the time, these conflicting attitudes can
in a sense be seen as two sides of the coin of fascist imperialism (Panorama de la
litterature italienne contemporaine. Paris, 1928. Quoted in OC).

16 Giovanni Papini, ex-Futurist, converted to Catholicism and to a cult of
austerity and simple values.

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side and the mines, so it is to the city that there flow the freshest
minds from the provinces and the ideas of great solitary men.
The city is like a pyre which gives light because it is burning
what was created far away from it and many times against it.
All cities are sterile. Proportionately few children are born there,
and genius almost never. In the city there is enjoyment, but
no creation; there is love but no generation, consumption but no
production."

Apart from the "absolute" idiocies here, one should point out
that Papini has in mind the "relative" model of the city non-city,
the Koblenz of the consumers of landed income and tolerated
houses. 17 In the same number of La Fiera Letteraria the following item
may be read:

"Our super-country recipe has these characteristics: decisive
aversion to all those forms of civilisation which are not com-
patible with ours or which ruin, through being indigestible, the
classical gifts of the Italians. Then, guardianship of the universal
sense of the country, which is, spelt out, the natural and immanent
relationship between the individual and his land. Finally, exalta-
tion of our own native characteristics in every field and activity
of life, that is to say: Catholic foundation, religious sense of the
world, fundamental simplicity and sobriety, closeness to reality,
control of fantasy, equilibrium between spirit and matter."

(Note: how would Italy of today, the Italian nation, have come
into existence without the formation and development of cities and
without the unifying influence of cities. "Supercountrymanism" in
the past would have meant municipalism, just as it meant popular
disarray and foreign rule. And would Catholicism itself have
developed if the Pope, instead of residing in Rome, had taken up
residence in Scaricalasino?) 18

Or take this judgment of Francesco Meriano (from UAssalto,
Bologna) :

"In the philosophical field I claim to discover on the other
hand a real antithesis, which is an antithesis more than a hundred

17 Koblenz, a city in the Rhineland, here used proverbially as a centre of
parasitic consumption and legalised prostitution.

18 Scaricalasino, literally "unload-the-donkey", in the sense of a tiny village at
the back of beyond.

AMERICANISM AND FORDISM 2 8g

years old but always reappearing in a new outward guise: between
voluntarism, pragmatism and activism, identifiable in Supercity,
and enlightenment, rationalism and historicism, identifiable in
Supercountry."

(In other words the immortal principles have taken refuge in
Supercountry.) In any case it is worth noting that the "literary"
polemic between Supercountry and Supercity was nothing but the
froth on top of the polemic between parasitic conservatism and the
innovating tendencies of Italian society. In La Stampa, 4 May 1 929,
Mino Maccari writes :

"When Supercountry opposes modernistic importations, its
opposition is aimed at preserving the right to select from them
with a view to preventing harmful contacts, mixed with those
which could be useful, from corrupting the integrity of the nature
and character proper to Italian civilisation, quintessentialised
over the ages and now yearning (!) after a unifying synthesis."

(Already "quintessentialised" but not "synthesised" and "uni-
fied" ! ! !)

FINANCIAL AUTARKY 19 OF INDUSTRY

A noteworthy article by Carlo Pagni, A propositi di un tentativo di
teoria pur a del corporativismo (La Riforma Sociale, September/October
ig2g) examines Massimo Fovel's book Economia e corporativismo
(Ferrara, S. A.T.E., 1 929) and refers to another work of the same
author Rendita e salario nello Stato Sindacale (Rome, 1928). But he
does not realise, or does not point out explicitly, that Fovel in his
writings conceives of "corporatism" as the premiss for the introduc-
tion into Italy of the most advanced American systems of production
and labour. It would be interesting to know whether Fovel is
writing "out of his head" or whether he has behind him specific
social forces (practically speaking and not just in general) which
back him and urge him on. Fovel has never been a "pure scientist",
since all intellectuals, however "pure", are always expressive of
certain tendencies. In many ways he belongs to the Cicotti, Naldi,
Bazzi, Preziosi, etc., coterie, but he is more complex, because of
his undeniable intellectual quality. Fovel has always harboured the
aspiration of becoming a great political leader,* 0 but he has never

" Autarky: i.e. self-sufficiency, particularly in the sense of self financing.
20 Leader. In English in the text.

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managed it because he lacks certain basic gifts — a force of will
directed to a single end and a freedom from Missiroli's type of
intellectual volubility. Furthermore, he is all too often clearly
connected with shady petty interests.

He began as a "young radical" 21 before the war. He wanted to
rejuvenate the traditional democratic movement by giving it a
more concrete and modern content, and flirted a bit with the
Republicans, especially with the federalist and regionalist trends
(Oliviero Zuccarini's Critica Politico). During the war he was a
Giolittian neutralist: in 19 J 9 he joined the Socialist Party in
Bologna, but never wrote for Avanti! Before the armistice he made
several excursions to Turin. The Torinese industrialists had acquired
the old and infamous Gazzetta di Torino in order to transform it
and make it their own direct mouthpiece. Fovel aspired to become
editor-in-chief of the new combination and was certainly in contact
with industrial circles. But Tommaso Borelli, a "young liberal" was
chosen instead, and was shortly succeeded by Italo Minunni of the
Idea Nazionale. However, La Gazzetta di Torino did not flourish, even
under the name of Paese, despite the sums expended on its develop-
ment, and was closed down by its promoters.

A curious letter came from Fovel in 19 19: he wrote that he 'Telt
a [duty" to collaborate on the weekly Ordine Nuovo. We sent
a reply establishing the limits of any possible contribution by him,
after which the "voice of duty" was suddenly silent. Fovel joined
up with the Passigli, Montelli, Gardenghi crowd, which had made
out of the Lavoratore in Trieste a pretty lucrative business affair,
and which must have had contacts with the Torinese industrial
world. An attempt was made by Passigli to transport L 'Ordine
Nuovo to Trieste with a "commercially" profitable management
(the date can be checked against the subscription of 100 lire made
by Passigli who had come to Turin for direct talks). 22 The question
arose of whether a "gentleman" could collaborate on Lavoratore.
In 1 92 1 certain papers belonging to Fovel and Gardenghi were
found in the Lavoratore offices, from which it emerged that the two
colleagues were speculating in cotton shares on the Stock Exchange
during the strike led by the syndicalists of Nicola Vecchi, and were

a The curious biographical note which follows, about the apparently insignifi-
cant figure of Massimo Fovel, is interesting for the light it throws on part of the
intellectual fringe of the Italian labour movement in the period immediately
following the First World War and on the facility with which certain Social
Democrats and "Radicals" passed into active complicity with the socio economic
manifestations of fascism.

" Passigli's subscription is recorded in V Ordine Niwvo, 27 March 1 920.

AMERICANISM AND FORDISM 2gi

running the paper according to the interests of their speculations.
After Livorno 23 Fovel was not heard of for some time. He reappeared
in 1925, as a collaborator on Avanti! with Nenni 24 and Gardenghi,
and set up a campaign in favour of the vassalage of Italian industry
to American finance, a campaign which was instantly exploited
(but there must have been an agreement in advance) by the Gazzetta
del Popolo, connected with Ponti of S.I. P. [Piedmont Hydro-
Electrics]. In 1925-26 Fovel was a frequent contributor to La
Voce Repubblicana. Today (1929) he upholds corporatism as a
premiss for an Italian form of Americanisation, collaborates on the
Ferrara Corriere Padano, 2 * on Nuovi Studi, Nuovi Problemi and Problemi
del Lavoro and teaches (so it appears) at Ferrara University.

What would appear significant in Fovel's thesis, as summarised
by Pagni, is his conception of the corporation as an autonomous
industrial productive bloc destined to resolve in a modern and
increasingly capitalist direction the problem of further development
of the Italian economic apparatus. This is opposed to the semi-
feudal and parasitic elements of society which appropriate an
excessive tithe of surplus value and to the so-called "producers of
savings". The production of savings should become an internal
(more economical) function of the productive bloc itself, with the
help of a development of production at diminishing costs which
would allow, in addition to an increase of surplus value, higher
salaries as well. The result of this would be a larger internal market,
a certain level of working-class saving and higher profits. In this
way one should get a more rapid rhythm of capital accumulation
within the enterprise rather than through the intermediary of the
"producers of savings" who are really nothing other than predators
ofsurplus value. Within the industrial-productive bloc, the technical
element, management and workers, should be more important than
the "capitalistic" element in the petty sense of the word. The
alliance of captains of industry and petit-bourgeois savers should
be replaced by a bloc consisting of all the elements which are
directly operative in production and which are the only ones
capable of combining in a union and thus constituting the produc-
tive corporation. (Whence the extreme conclusion drawn by
Spirito, of the corporation as property.) 26

23 The Congress of Livomo of January 1920, at which the Communist fraction
definitively split from the Socialist Party and formed the Communist Party of
Italy.

24 Pietro Nenni, later to become leader of the Socialist Party.

26 Corriere Padano. The paper of Italo Balbo, one of the leaders of Mussolini's
March on Rome in October 1922. 26 See note 120 on p. 4.70.

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Pagni's objection to Fovel is that his treatment is not a new
political economy but just a new economic policy. This is a purely
formal objection, which could be important in a certain context
but does not touch the core of the argument. The other objections,
in concrete terms, are nothing other than the observation that there
exist various aspects of the Italian situation which are backward
in relation to the "organisational" upheaval of the economic
machine. Fovel's greatest weaknesses consist in his having neglected
the economic function which the state has always had in Italy
because of the diffident attitude of small savers towards the
industrialists, and in having neglected the fact that the corporative
trend did not originate from the need for changes in the technical
conditions of industry, or even from that of a new economic policy,
but rather from the need for economic policing, a need which was
aggravated by the 1929 crisis which is still going on.

In reality skilled workers in Italy have never, as individuals or
through union organisations, actively or passively opposed innova-
tions leading towards lowering of costs, rationalisation of work or
the introduction of more perfect forms of automation and more
perfect technical organisation of the complex of the enterprise. On
the contrary. However, this has happened in America and has
resulted in the semi-liquidation of the free trade unions and their
replacement by a system of mutually isolated factory-based workers'
organisations. In Italy on the other hand even the slightest and
most cautious attempt to make the factory the centre of the trade
union organisation (recall the question of the "shop stewards") 2 '
has been bitterly contested and resolutely crushed. A careful analysis
of Italian history before 1922, or even up to 1926, which does not
allow itself to be distracted by external trappings but manages to
seize on the essential moments of the working-class struggle, must
objectively come to the conclusion that it was precisely the workers
who brought into being newer and more modern industrial require-
ments and in their own way upheld these strenuously. It could also
be said that some industrialists understood this movement and
tried to appropriate it to themselves. This explains Agnelli's
attempt to absorb the Ordine JVuovo and its school into the FIAT
complex and thus to institute a school of workers and technicians
qualified for industrial change and for work with "rationalised"
systems. The YMCA tried to open courses of abstract "Ameri-
canism", but despite all the money spent they were not a success.

*> "fiduciari d'azienda."

AMERICANISM AND FORDISM

2 93

The considerations apart, a further series of questions is raised.
The corporative movement exists. It is also true that in some ways
the juridical changes which have already taken place have created
the formal conditions within which major technical-economic
change can happen on a large scale, because the workers are not in
a position either to oppose it or to struggle to become themselves
the standard-bearers of the movement. Corporative organisation
could become the form of the new change, but one asks onself:
shall we experience one of Vico's "ruses of providence" 28 in which
men, without either proposing or willing it, are forced to obey the
imperatives of history? For the moment one is more inclined to be
dubious. The negative element of "economic policing" has so far
had the upper hand over the positive element represented by the
requirements of a new economic policy which can renovate, by
modernising it, the socio-economic structure of the nation while
remaining within the framework of the old industrialism,

The juridical form possible is one of the conditions required, but
not the only one or even the most important: it is only the most
important of the immediate conditions. Americanisation requires a
particular environment, a particular social structure (or at least a
determined intention to create it) and a certain type of State.
This State is the liberal State, not in the sense of free-trade
liberalism or of effective political liberty, but in the more funda-
mental sense of free initiative and of economic individualism
which, with its own means, on the level of "civil society", through
historical development, itself arrives at a regime of industrial con-
centration and monopoly. The disappearance of the semi-feudal
type of rentier is in Italy one of the major conditions of an industrial
revolution (and, in part, the revolution itself) and not a conse-
quence. The economic and financial policy of the state is the instru-
ment of their disappearance through the amortisation of the national
debt, compulsory registration of shares, and by giving a greater
weight to direct rather than indirect taxation in the governmental
budget. But it does not seem that this has been or is going to become
the trend of financial policy. Indeed, the State is creating new
rentiers, that is to say it is promoting the old forms of parasitic
accumulation of savings and tending to create closed social forma-

28 "astuzie delta Provvidenza." In Vico's Scienza Nuova, Divine Providence,
which is conceived as an immanent rather than a transcendental force and is
broadly identifiable with Reason or History in later idealist writers, is seen as
capable of overriding the contingent vagaries of human wills and redirecting the
path of history by covert means. But see also note 103 on p. 108.

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tions. In reality the corporative trend has operated to shore up
crumbling positions of the middle classes and not to eliminate them,
and is becoming, because of the vested interests that arise from the
old foundations, more and more a machinery to preserve the
existing order just as it is rather than a propulsive force. Why is this?
Because the corporative trend is also dependent on unemployment.
It defends for the employed a certain minimum standard which,
if there were free competition, would likewise collapse and thus
provoke serious social disturbances; and it creates new forms of
employment, organisational and not productive, for the unemployed
of the middle classes. But there still remains a way out: the cor-
porative trend, born in strict dependence on such a delicate
situation whose essential equilibrium must at all costs be maintained
if monstrous catastrophe is to be averted, could yet manage to
proceed by very slow and almost imperceptible stages to modify
the social structure without violent shocks: even the most tightly
swathed baby manages nevertheless to develop and grow. This is
why it would be interesting to know whether Fovel is speaking just
for himself or whether he is the representative of economic forces
which are looking for a way forward at all costs. In any case, the
process would be so long and encounter so many difficulties that
new interests could grow up in the meanwhile and once again
oppose its development so tenaciously as to crush it entirely.

SOME ASPECTS OF THE SEXUAL QUESTION

Obsession with the sexual question and dangers of that obsession.
AH the promoters of "blueprints" for society 29 put the sexual
question in the forefront and resolve it "frankly".

It is worth noting that in "Utopias" the sexual question plays a
large and often dominant part. (Croce's observation that Cam-
panella's solutions in La Citta del Sole 30 are inexplicable in terms of
the sexual needs of Calabrian peasants is just inept.) Sexual instincts
are those that have undergone the greatest degree of repression
from society in the course of its development. "Regulation" of sexual
instincts, because of the contradictions it creates and the perversions
that are attributed to it, seems particularly "unnatural". Hence the
frequency of appeals to "nature" in this area. "Psycho-analytical"

" "progettisti."

,D Tommaso Campanella (1568 1639), heretical Dominican monk, was the
author of a famous early Utopia, La Citta del Sole (The City of the Sun), which
put forward a theocratic-communistic ideal of social organisation including a
form of sexual communism.

AMERICANISM AND FORDISM 2 g^

literature is also a kind of criticism of the regulation of sexual
instincts in a form which often recalls the Enlightenment, as in
its creation of a new myth of the "savage" on a sexual basis
(including relations between parents and children).

There is a split, in this field, between city and country, but with
no idyllic bias in favour of the country, where the most frequent
and the most monstrous sexual crimes take place and where
bestiality and sodomy are widespread. In the parliamentary enquiry
on the South in 191 1 it is stated that in Abruzzo and the Basilicata,
which are the regions where there is most religious fanaticism and
patriarchalism and the least influence of urban ideas (to such an
extent that, according to Serpieri, in the years 1919-20 there was
not even any peasant unrest in those areas) there is incest in 30 per
cent of families. And it does not appear that the situation has
changed since then.

Sexuality as reproductive function and as sport: The "aesthetic"
ideal of woman oscillates between the conceptions of "brood mare"
and of "dolly". But it is not only in the cities that sexuality has
become a "sport". The popular proverbs, "man is a hunter, woman
a temptress", "the man who has no choice goes to bed with his
wife", etc., show how widespread the conception of sex as sport is
even in the countryside and in sexual relations between members
of the same class.

The economic function of reproduction. This is not only a general
fact which concerns the whole of society in its totality, because
society demands a certain proportion between age-groups for pur-
poses of production and of supporting the section of the population
that for normal reasons (age, illness, etc.) is passive. It is also a
"molecular" fact which operates within the smallest economic
units, such as the family. The expression about the "staff of old
age" demonstrates an instinctive consciousness of the economic
need for there to be a certain ratio of young to old over the entire
area of society. The sight of the maltreatment meted out in country
villages to old people without a family encourages couples to want
to have children. (The proverb to the effect that "a mother may
raise a hundred sons, but a hundred sons do not support a mother",
shows another side to this question.) Among the people old men
without children are treated in the same way as bastards. Medical
advance, which has raised the average expectancy of human life, is
making the sexual question increasingly important as a funda-
mental and autonomous aspect of the economic, and this sexual
aspect raises, in its turn, complex problems of a "superstructure!"

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order. The increase of life-expectancy in France, where the birth-
rate is low and where there is a rich and complex productive
apparatus to be kept going, has already given rise to a number of
problems connected with the national question. The older genera-
tions are finding themselves in an increasingly abnormal relationship
with the younger generations of the same national culture, and the
working masses are being swollen by immigrant elements from
abroad which modify the base. The same phenomenon is happening
there as in America, that of a certain division of labour, with the
native population occupying the qualified trades and, of course,
the functions of direction and organisation, and the immigrants
the unskilled work.

In a number of states a similar relationship, with important
negative economic consequences, exists between industrial cities with
a low birth-rate and a prolific countryside. Life in industry demands
a general apprenticeship, a process of psycho-physical adaptation to
specific conditions of work, nutrition, housing, customs, etc. This
is not something "natural" or innate, but has to be acquired, and
the urban characteristics thus acquired are passed on by heredity
or rather are absorbed in the development of childhood and
adolescence. As a result the low birth-rate in the cities imposes the
need for continual massive expenditure on the training of a con-
tinual flow of new arrivals in the city and brings with it a continual
change in the socio-political composition of the city, thus con-
tinually changing the terrain on which the problem of hegemony is
to be posed.

The formation of a new feminine personality is the most important
question of an ethical and civil order connected with the sexual
question. Until women can attain not only a genuine independence
in relation to men but also a new way of conceiving themselves
and their role in sexual relations, the sexual question will remain
full of unhealthy characteristics and caution must be exercised in
proposals for new legislation. Every crisis brought about by uni-
lateral coercion in the sexual field unleashes a "romantic" reaction
which could be aggravated by the abolition of organised legal
prostitution. All these factors make any form of regulation of sex
and any attempt to create a new sexual ethic suited to the new
methods of production and work extremely complicated and diffi-
cult. However, it is still necessary to attempt this regulation and to
attempt to create a new ethic. It is worth drawing attention to the
way in which industrialists (Ford in particular) have been con-
cerned with the sexual affairs of their employees and with their

AMERICANISM AND FORDISM

297

family arrangements in general. One should not be misled, any more
than in the case of prohibition, by the "puritanical" appearance
assumed by this concern. The truth is that the new type of man
demanded by the rationalisation of production and work cannot
be developed until the sexual instinct has been suitably regulated
and until it too has been rationalised.

FEMINISM AND "mASCULINISM"

From the review which A. De Pietri Tonelli has published in the
Rivista di politico, economica (February 1930) of the book by
Anthony M. Ludovici, Woman. A Vindication (2nd edition, London,
1921):

"When things are going badly in the social structure of a
nation because of the decadence of the fundamental capacities
of its men", Ludovici claims, "two distinct tendencies seem
always to assert themselves: on the one hand to interpret as
symptoms of progress changes which are purely and simply
signs of decadence and ruin of old and healthy ( !) institutions;
and the second, which is due to a justified loss of confidence in
the governing class, is to give to everyone, whether or not they
have the qualities required, the certainty of being chosen to make
an effort in the direction of putting things right".

(The translation is manifestly uncertain and inaccurate.) 31
The author regards feminism as an expression of the second
tendency and demands a resurgence of "masculinism". Apart
from any other considerations on the subject, difficult to make
because the text printed by De Pietri Tonelli is so uncertain, this
anti-feminist and "masculinist" tendency is worth drawing atten-
tion to. One should also study the origins of the legislation in the
Anglo-Saxon countries 32 which is so favourable to women in a

81 Anthony Mario Ludovici, Woman. A Vindication, London, 1923. We have
been unable to trace any corresponding passage in the original, and have simply
retranslated the "manifestly uncertain and inaccurate Italian". The anti-feminist,
anti-democratic tone of the passage is however quite typical of the author,
amateur sexologist and translator of Nietzsche.

82 Exactly what legislation Gramsci had in mind here is uncertain, but it h
worth pointing out that in both England and America legislation in regard to
divorce and custody of the children of separated parents was far in advance of
that in Italy. The "unhealthy 'feministic' deviations" referred to immediately
below would seem to be connected with an upper-class American phenomenon
of sexual liberation achieved on the basis of economic independence obtained
through a favourable divorce settlement.

298 GRAMSGi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

whole series of questions relating to "sentimental" or pseudo-
sentimental conflicts. This represents an attempt to regulate the
sexual question, and to treat it seriously, but it doesn't seem to
have accomplished its purpose. It has made way for unhealthy
"feministic" deviations in the worst sense of the word, and has
created for women (of the upper classes) a paradoxical social
position.

"animality" and industrialism

The history of industrialism has always been a continuing struggle
(which today takes an even more marked and vigorous form)
against the element of "animality" in man. It has been an unin-
terrupted, often painful and bloody process of subjugating natural
(i.e. animal and primitive) instincts to new, more complex and
rigid norms and habits of order, exactitude and precision which
can make possible the increasingly complex forms of collective life
which are the necessary consequence of industrial development.
This struggle is imposed from outside, and the results to date,
though they have great immediate practical value, are to a large
extent purely mechanical: the new habits have not yet become
"second nature". But has not every new way of life, in the period
in which it was forced to struggle against the old, always been for
a certain time a result of mechanical repression? Even the instincts
which have to be overcome today because they are too "animal"
are really a considerable advance on earlier, even more primitive
instincts. Who could describe the "cost" in human lives and in
the grievous subjugation of instinct involved in the passage from
nomadism to a settled agricultural existence ? The process includes
the first forms of rural serfdom and trade bondage, etc. Up to now
all changes in modes of existence and modes of life have taken
place through brute coercion, that is to say through the dominion
of one social group over all the productive forces of society. The
selection or "education" of men adapted to the new forms of
civilisation and to the new forms of production and work has taken
place by means of incredible acts of brutality which have cast the
weak and the non-conforming into the limbo of the lumpen-classes
or have eliminated them entirely.

With the appearance of new types of civilisation, or in the course
of their development, there have always been crises. But who has
been involved in these crises? Not so much the working masses as
the middle classes and a part even of the ruling class which had

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299

undergone the process of coercion which was necessarily being
exercised over the whole area of society. Crises of libertinism have
been many, and there has been one in every historical epoch.

When the pressure of coercion is exercised over the whole complex
of society (and this has taken place in particular since the fall of
slavery and the coming of Christianity) puritan ideologies develop
which give an external form of persuasion and consent to the
intrinsic use of force. But once the result has been achieved, if
only to a degree, the pressure is fragmented. Historically this
fragmentation has assumed many different forms, which is to be
expected, since the pressure itself has always taken original and
often personal forms — it has been identified with a religious move-
ment, it has created an apparatus of its own incarnated in particular
strata or castes, it has taken the name of a Cromwell or a Louis XV
as the case may be. It is at this point that the crisis of libertinism
ensues. The French crisis following the death of Louis XV, for
example, cannot be compared with the crisis in America following
the appearance of Roosevelt, nor does prohibition, with its conse-
quent gangsterism, etc., have any parallel in preceding epochs. But
the crisis does not affect the working masses except in a superficial
manner, or it can affect them indirectly, in that it depraves their
women folk. These masses have either acquired the habits and
customs necessary for the new systems of living and working, or
else they continue to be subject to coercive pressure through the
elementary necessities of their existence. Opposition to prohibition
was not wanted by the workers, and the corruption brought about
by bootlegging and gangsterism was widespread amongst the
upper classes.

In the post-war period there has been a crisis of morals of unique
proportions, but it took place in opposition to a form of coercion
which had not been imposed in order to create habits suited to
forms of work but arose from the necessities, admitted as transitory,
of wartime life and life in the trenches. This pressure involved a
particular repression of sexual instincts, even the most normal,
among great masses of young people, and the crisis which broke
out with the return to normal life was made even more violent
by the disappearance of so many young men and by a permanent
disequilibrium in the numerical proportions of individuals of the
two sexes. The institutions connected with sexual life were pro-
foundly shaken and new forms of enlightened Utopias developed
around the sexual question. The crisis was made even more violent,
and still is, by the fact that it affected all strata of the population

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and came into conflict with the necessities of the new methods of
work which were meanwhile beginning to impose themselves.
(Taylorism and rationalisation in general.) These new methods
demand a rigorous discipline of the sexual instincts (at the level
of the nervous system) and with it a strengthening of the "family"
in the wide sense (rather than a particular form of the familial
system) and of the regulation and stability of sexual relations.

It is worth insisting on the fact that in the sexual field the most
depraving and "regressive" ideological factor is the enlightened
and libertarian conception proper to those classes which are not
tightly bound to productive work and spread by them among the
working classes. This element becomes particularly serious in a
state where the working masses are no longer subject to coercive
pressure from a superior class and where the new methods of
production and work have to be acquired by means of reciprocal
persuasion and by convictions proposed and accepted by each
individual. A two-fold situation can then create itself in which
there is an inherent conflict between the "verbal" ideology which
recognises the new necessities and the real "animal" practice which
prevents physical bodies from effectively acquiring the new attitudes.
In this case one gets the formation of what can be called a situation
of totalitarian social hypocrisy. Why totalitarian? In other situations
the popular strata are compelled to practise "virtue". Those who
preach it do not practice it, although they pay it verbal homage. 33
The hypocrisy is therefore a question of strata: it is not total. This
is a situation which cannot last, and is certain to lead to a crisis of
libertinism, but only when the masses have already assimilated
"virtue" in the form of more or less permanent habits, that is
with ever-decreasing oscillations. On the other hand, in the case
where no coercive pressure is exercised by a superior class, "virtue"
is affirmed in generic terms but is not practised either through
conviction or through coercion, with the result that the psycho-
physical attitudes necessary for the new methods of work are not
acquired. The crisis can become "permanent" — that is, potentially
catastrophic — since it can be resolved only by coercion. This
coercion is a new type, in that it is exercised by the elite of a class
over the rest of that same class. It can also only be self-coercion
and therefore self-discipline (like Alfjeri tying himself to the chair). 34

» Cf. the famous "Maxim" of La Rochefoucauld (n. CCXVIII): "hypocrisy
is a homage which vice pays to virtue".

M Vittorio Alfieri (1749 1803), the Italian poet and dramatist, recounts in
his autobiography (V. Alfieri, Vita, Epoca Terza, cap. XV) how in his determina-

AMERICANISM AND FORDISM

30I

In any case in the sphere of sexual relations what can be opposed
to this function of the elites is the enlightened and libertarian
mentality. The struggle against the libertarian conception means
therefore precisely creating the elites necessary for the historical
task, or at least developing them so that their function is extended
to cover all spheres of human activity.

RATIONALISATION OF PRODUCTION AND WORK

The tendency represented by Lev Davidovitch [Trotsky] was
closely connected to this series of problems, a fact which does not
seem to me to have been fully brought out. Its essential content,
from this point of view, consisted in an "over"-resolute (and
therefore not rationalised) will to give supremacy in national life
to industry and industrial methods, to accelerate, through coercion
imposed from the outside, the growth of discipline and order in
production, and to adapt customs to the necessities of work. Given
the general way in which all the problems connected with this
tendency were conceived, it was destined necessarily to end up in a
fqrm of Bonapartism. Hence the inexorable necessity of crushing it.
The preoccupations were correct, but the practical solutions were
profoundly mistaken, and in this imbalance between theory and
practice there was an inherent danger — the same danger, inci-
dentally, which had manifested itself earlier, in 1921. The principle
of coercion, direct or indirect, in the ordering of production and
work, is correct: but the form which it assumed was mistaken. The
military model had become a pernicious prejudice and the militarisa-
tion of labour was a failure. 35

tion to stop wasting his life and dedicate himself wholeheartedly to poetry he used
to get his servant Elia to tie him to a chair at his desk, thus giving him no choice
but to carry on working.

ss The militarisation of labour was a labour policy which operated for a short
time in the Soviet Union during the period of War Communism. Adopted at the
IXth Party Congress in 1920, it met with growing opposition from the Trades
Unions particularly after the end of the Civil War. It was most closely associated
with the figure of Trotsky who, at the IXth Congress, put the policy in these
terms:

"Militarisation is unthinkable without the militarisation of the Trades
Unions as such, without the establishment of a regime in. which every worker
feels himself a soldier of labour, who cannot dispose of himself freely; if the
order is given to transfer him, he must carry it out; if he does not carry it out,
he will be a deserter who is punished. Who looks after this ? The Trade Union.
It creates the new regime. This is the militarisation of the working class."

The policy was implicitly defeated, with the rejection of the Trotsky Bukharin
theses on the Trades Unions, at the Xth Congress in 1921. The adoption of the

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Interest of Lev Davidovitch in Americanism. He wrote articles,
researched into the "byt" [EbIT= mode of living] and into literature.
These activities were less disconnected than might appear, since
the new methods of work are inseparable from a specific mode of
living and of thinking and feeling life. One cannot have success
in one field without tangible results in the other. In America
rationalisation of work and prohibition are undoubtedly connected.
The enquiries conducted by the industrialists into the workers'
private lives and the inspection services created by some firms to
control the "morality" of their workers are necessities of the new
methods of work. People who laugh at these initiatives (failures
though they were) and see in them only a hypocritical manifestation
of "puritanism" thereby deny themselves any possibility of under-
standing the importance, significance and objective import of the
American phenomenon, which is also the biggest collective effort
to date to create, with unprecedented speed, and with a conscious-
ness of purpose unmatched in history, a new type of worker and
of man. The expression "consciousness of purpose" might appear
humorous to say the least to anyone who recalls Taylor's phrase
about the "trained gorilla". 36 Taylor is in fact expressing with
brutal cynicism the purpose of American society — developing in
the worker to the highest degree automatic and mechanical atti-
tudes, breaking up the old psycho-physical nexus of qualified
professional work, which demands a certain active participation of
intelligence, fantasy and initiative on the part of the worker, and
reducing productive operations exclusively to the mechanical,
physical aspect. But these things, in reality, are not original or
novel : they represent simply the most recent phase of a long process
which began with industrialism itself. This phase is more intense
than preceding phases, and manifests itself in more brutal forms,
but it is a phase which will itself be superseded by the creation of a

New Economic Policy rendered the methods of War Communism redundant.
However, it has been argued that a close resemblance can be found between the
"militarisation of labour" and the labour policy of the period of the Five Year
Plans.

36 This phrase, whose revealing "tactlessness" instantly attracted the attention
of commentators, occurs on p. 40 of Frederick Taylor's The Principles of Scientific
Management (191 1), where the author writes: "This work [pig-iron handling] is
so crude and elementary in its nature that the writer firmly believes that it would
be possible to train an intelligent gorilla so as to become a more efficient pig-iron
handler than any man could be." Frederick Taylor (1856 1915) was an American
engineer and pioneer of scientific management.

For Gramsci's analysis of the significance of "Taylorism", see also pp. 308 10
below and Introduction to this Section, pp. 277-8.

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303

psycho-physical nexus of a new type, both different from its pre-
decessors and undoubtedly superior. A forced selection will ineluct-
ably take place; a part of the old working class will be pitilessly
eliminated from the world of labour, and perhaps from the world
tout court.

Itis from this point ofview that one should study the "puritanical"
initiative of American industrialists like Ford. It is certain that they
are not concerned with the "humanity" or the "spirituality" of
the worker, which are immediately smashed. This "humanity and
spirituality" cannot be realised except in the world of production
and work and in productive "creation". They exist most in the
artisan, in the "demiurge", 37 when the worker's personality was
reflected whole in the object created and when the link between
art and labour was still very strong. But it is precisely against this
"humanism" that the new industrialism is fighting. "Puritanical"
initiatives simply have the purpose of preserving, outside of work, a
certain psycho-physical equilibrium which prevents the physio-
logical collapse of the worker, exhausted by the new method of
production. This equilibrium can only be something purely external
and mechanical, but it can become internalised if it is proposed by
the worker himself, and not imposed from the outside, if it is pro-
posed by a new form of society, with appropriate and original
methods. American industrialists are concerned to maintain the
continuity of the physical and muscular-nervous efficiency of the
worker. It is in their interests to have a stable, skilled labour force,
a permanently well-adjusted complex, because the human complex
(the collective worker) of an enterprise is also a machine which
cannot, without considerable loss, be taken to pieces too often and
renewed with single new parts.

The element of so-called high wages also depends on this necessity.
It is the instrument used to select and maintain in stability a skilled
labour force suited to the system of production and work. But high
wages are a double-edged weapon. It is necessary for the worker
to spend his extra money "rationally" to maintain, renew and, if
possible, increase his muscular-nervous efficiency and not to corrode
or destroy it. Thus the struggle against alcohol, the most dangerous
agent of destruction of labouring power, becomes a function of the
state. It is possible for other "puritanical" struggles as well to
become functions of the state if the private initiative of the industri-
alists proves insufficient or if a moral crisis breaks out among the

87 "demiurge": from the Greek, meaning a handicraftsman, but with the
extended sense, in Platonic philosophy, of "creator of the world".

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working masses which is too profound and too widespread, as might
happen as a result of a long and widespread crisis of unemployment.

The sexual question is again connected with that of alcohol.
Abuse and irregularity of sexual functions is, after alcoholism, the
most dangerous enemy of nervous energies, and it is commonly
observed that "obsessional" work provokes alcoholic and sexual
depravation. The attempts made by Ford, with the aid of a body
of inspectors, to intervene in the private lives of his employees and
to control how they spent their wages and how they lived is an
indication of these tendencies. Though these tendencies are still only
"private" or only latent, they could become, at a certain point,
state ideology, inserting themselves into traditional puritanism and
presenting themselves as a renaissance of the pioneer morality and
as the "true" America (etc.). The most noteworthy fact in the
American phenomenon in relation to these manifestations is the
gap which has been formed and is likely to be increasingly
accentuated, between the morality and way of life of the workers
and those of other strata of the population.

Prohibition has already given an example of this gap. Who drank
the alcohol brought into the United States by the bootleggers?
Alcohol became a luxury product and even the highest wages were
not enough to enable it to be consumed by large strata of the working
masses. Someone who works for a wage, with fixed hours, does not
have time to dedicate himself to the pursuit of drink or to sport
or evading the law. The same observation can be made about
sexuality. "Womanising" demands too much leisure. The new type
of worker will be a repetition, in a different form, of peasants in
the villages. The relative stability of sexual unions among the
peasants is closely linked to the system of work in the country. The
peasant who returns home in the evening after a long and hard
day's work wants the "venerem facilem parabilemque" SB of Horace. It
is not his style. He loves his own woman, sure and unfailing, who is
free from affectation and doesn't play little games about being
seduced or raped in order to be possessed. It might seem that in
this way the sexual function has been mechanised, but in reality
we are dealing with the growth of a new form of sexual union
shorn of the bright and dazzling colour of the romantic tinsel
typical of the petit bourgeois and the Bohemian layabout. It seems
clear that the new industrialism wants monogamy: it wants the
man as worker not to squander his nervous energies in the disorderly

M "Easy and accessible love." Cf. Horace, Satires, I, ii, 119, ". . . namque
parabilem amo venerem facilemque".

AMERICANISM AND FORDISM 305

and stimulating pursuit of occasional sexual satisfaction. The
employee who goes to work after a night of "excess" is no good
for his work. The exaltation of passion cannot be reconciled with
the timed movements of productive motions connected with the
most perfected automatism. This complex of direct and indirect
repression and coercion exercised on the masses will undoubtedly
produce results and a new form of sexual union will emerge whose
fundamental characteristic would apparently have to be monogamy
and relative stability.

It would be interesting to know the statistical occurrence of
deviation from the sexual behaviour officially propagandised in the
United States, broken down according to social group.

It will show that in general divorce is particularly frequent
among the upper classes. This demonstrates the moral gap in the
United States between the working masses and the ever more
numerous elements of the ruling classes. This moral gap seems to
me one of the most interesting phenomena and one which is most
rich in consequences. Until recently the American people was a
working people. The "vocation of work" was not a trait inherent
only in the working class but it was a specific quality of the ruling
classes as well. The fact that a millionaire continued to be practically
active until forced to retire by age or illness and that his activity
occupied a very considerable part of his day, is a typically American
phenomenon. This, for the average European, is the weirdest
American extravagance. We have noted above that this difference
between Americans and Europeans is determined by the absence
of "tradition" in the United States, in so far as tradition also means
passive residues of all the social forms eclipsed by past history. In the
United States, on the other hand, there is a recent "tradition" of
the pioneers, the tradition of strong individual personalities in
whom the vocation of work had reached its greatest intensity and
strength, men who entered directly, not by means of some army of
servants and slaves, into energetic contact with the forces of nature
in order to dominate them and exploit them victoriously. In Europe
it is the passive residues that resist Americanism (they "represent
quality", etc.) because they have the instinctive feeling that the
new forms of production and work would sweep them away
implacably. But if it is true that in Europe the old but still unburied
residues are due to be definitively destroyed, what is beginning to
happen in America itself? The moral gap mentioned above shows
that ever wider margins of social passivity are in the process of
being created. It would appear that women have a particularly

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important role here. The male industrialist continues to work even
if he is a millionaire, but his wife and daughters are turning, more
and more, into "luxury mammals". Beauty competitions, com-
petitions for new film actresses (recall the 30,000 Italian girls who
sent photographs of themselves in bathing costumes to Fox in 1926),
the theatre, etc., all of which select the feminine beauty of the world
and put it up for auction, stimulate the mental attitudes of prostitu-
tion, and "white slaving" is practised quite legally among the
upper classes. The women, with nothing to do, travel; they are
continually crossing -the ocean to come to Europe, escaping pro-
hibition in their own country and contracting "marriages" for a
season. (It is worth recalling that ship's captains in the United
States have been deprived of their right to celebrate marriages
on board ship, since so many couples get married on leaving
Europe and divorced again before disembarking in America.)
Prostitution in a real sense is spreading, in a form barely disguised
by fragile legal formulae.

These phenomena proper to the upper classes will make more
difficult any coercion on the working masses to make them conform
to the needs of the new industry. In any case they are determining
a psychological split and accelerating the crystallisation and satura-
tion of the various social groups, thereby making evident the way
that these groups are being transformed into castes just as they
have been in Europe.

TAYLOR AND AMERICANISM

Eugenio Giovannetti has written an article in Pegasos, May 1929,
on Frederick Taylor and Americanism, in which he says:

"Literary energy, abstract and nourished on the rhetoric of
generalisation, is no longer in a position to understand technical
energy, which is increasingly sharp and individual, a highly
original fabric of singular will and specialised education. The
literature of energy is still at the stage of its Prometheus Unbound
— far too facile an image. The hero of technical civilisation is
not a man unchained: he is a man of silence, who can carry
his iron chains up to the heavens. He is not an ignorant fool
whiling away his time : he is a man of study in the finest classical
sense, in that studium used to mean 'punta vivd . 3S While technical

38 "punta viva." The expression is obscure. What is probably meant is con-
centration and enthusiasm, which is the original etymological meaning of studium.

AMERICANISM AND FORDISM 307

or mechanicist civilisation, whichever you prefer, is silently
elaborating its new type of incisive hero, the literary cult of energy
only succeeds in creating an airy-fairy good-for-nothing, a
breathless fool reaching after the clouds."

It is worth pointing out that no attempt has been made to apply
to Americanism Gentile's little formula about "philosophy which
is not expressed in verbal formulations, but is affirmed in action".
This fact is instructive and significant, because if the formula has
any value at all, it is precisely in Americanism that it finds its
justification. On the contrary, in any discussion of Americanism it
is claimed that it is "mechanicist", crude, brutal — "pure action"
in other words — and it is contrasted with tradition, etc. But why
is this tradition not taken up as the basis of a philosophy or as the
verbally formulated philosophy of those movements for which,
conversely, "philosophy is affirmed in action" ? This contradiction
can explain many things: for example, the difference between real
action on the one hand, which modifies in an essential way both
man and external reality (in other words, real culture) and which
is Americanism, and on the other hand the gladiatorial futility
which is self-declared action but modifies only the word, not things,
the external gesture and not the man inside. The former is creating
a future which is intrinsic to its objective activity and which it
prefers to keep quiet about. The second only creates a superior
kind of puppet, modelled on a basis of rhetorical predicates, which
will collapse into nothingness the moment the strings are cut which
give from outside the appearance of motion and of life.

QUANTITY AND QUALITY

In the world of production these words mean nothing more than
"inexpensive" and "expensive" — i.e. satisfaction or failure to satisfy
the basic needs of the popular classes and a tendency respectively
to raise or to lower their standard of living. All the rest is just an
ideological serial story, of which Guglielmo Ferrero has written
the first episode. In a nation-enterprise which has at its disposal a
large labour force and a small amount of raw materials (which is a
dubious hypothesis, since every nation-enterprise can "create" its
own raw materials) the term "quality" simply means the intention
of employing a lot of labour on a little material, perfecting the
product to the maximum. In other words, it means specialisation
for a luxury market. But is this possible for an entire, very populous

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nation ? Where plenty of raw materials exist both alternatives are
possible, the qualitative and the quantitative, but the same does
not hold good for the so-called poor countries. Quantitative pro-
duction can also be qualitative, in the sense that it can compete
with purely qualitative industry at least among that part of the
class of consumers of "distinct" objects which is not traditionalistic
because it is a recent formation.

These observations are valid if one accepts the commonly put
forward criterion of "quality", which is not however a rational
criterion. In reality one should speak of quality only for works of
art which are individual and not susceptible of reproduction.
Everything that is susceptible of reproduction belongs to the realm
of quantity, and can be mass produced.

One can further observe this: if a nation specialises in "quali-
tative" production, what industry provides the consumer goods for
the poorer classes ? Does this mean promoting a system of inter-
national division of labour ? The whole thing is nothing more than
a formula for idle men of letters and for politicians whose demagogy
consists in building castles in the air. Quality should be attributed
to men, not to things; and human quality is raised and refined to
the extent that man can satisfy a greater number of needs and thus
make himself independent of them. The high price of bread, due
to a desire to keep a greater quantity of people tied to a specific
activity, leads to malnutrition. A policy of quality almost always
determines its opposite: dis-qualified quantity.

TAYLORISM AND THE MECHANISATION OF THE WORKER

Taylorism supposedly produces a gap between manual labour and
the "human content" of work. On this subject some useful observa-
tions can be made on the basis of past history and specifically of
those professions thought of as amongst the most intellectual, that
is to say the professions connected with the reproduction of texts
for publication or other forms of diffusion and transmission: the
scribes of the days before the invention of printing, compositors
on hand presses, linotype operators, stenographers and typists. If
one thinks about it, it is clear that in these trades the process of
adaptation to mechanisation is more difficult than elsewhere. Why ?
Because it is so hard to reach the height of professional qualification
when this requires of the worker that he should "forget" or not
think about the intellectual content of the text he is reproducing:
this in order to be able, if he is a scribe, to fix his attention exclusively

AMERICANISM AND FORDISM

309

on the calligraphic form of the single letters ; or to be able to break
down phrases into "abstract" words and then words into characters,
and rapidly select the pieces of lead in the cases; or to be able to
break down not single words but groups of words, in the context
of discourse, and group them mechanically into shorthand notation;
or to acquire speed in typing, etc. The worker's interest in the
intellectual content of the text can be measured from his mistakes.
In other words, it is a professional failing. Conversely his qualification
is commensurate with his lack of intellectual interest, i.e. the extent
to which he has become "mechanised". The mediaeval copyist who
was interested in the text changed the spelling, the morphology
and the syntax of the text he was copying; he missed out entire
passages which because of his meagre culture he could not under-
stand; the train of thoughts aroused in his mind by his interest in
the text led him to interpolate glosses and observations; if his
language or dialect was different from that of the text he would
introduce nuances deriving from his own speech: he was a bad
scribe because in reality he was "remaking" the text. The slow
speed of the art of writing in the Middle Ages explains many of
these weaknesses: there was too much time in which to reflect, and
consequently "mechanisation" was more difficult. The compositor
has to be much quicker; he has to keep his hands and eyes con-
stantly in movement, and this makes his mechanisation easier. But
if one really thinks about it, the effort that these workers have to
make in order to isolate from the often fascinating intellectual
content of a text (and the more fascinating it is the less work is
done and the less well) its written symbolisation, this perhaps is
the greatest effort that can be required in any trade. However it is
done, and it is not the spiritual death of man. Once the process of
adaptation has been completed, what really happens is that the
brain of the worker, far from being mummified, reaches a state of
complete freedom. The only thing that is completely mechanicised
is the physical gesture; the memory of the trade, reduced to simple
gestures repeated at an intense rhythm, "nestles" in the muscular
and nervous centres and leaves the brain free and unencumbered
for other occupations. One can walk without having to think about
all the movements needed in order to move, in perfect synchronisa-
tion, all the parts of the body, in the specific way that is necessary
for walking. The same thing happens and will go on happening in
industry with the basic gestures of the trade. One walks auto-
matically, and at the same time thinks about whatever one chooses.
American industrialists have understood all too well this dialectic

GRAMSCi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

inherent in the new industrial methods. They have understood that
"trained gorilla" is just a phrase, that "unfortunately" the worker
remains a man and even that during his work he thinks more, or
at least has greater opportunities for thinking, once he has overcome
the crisis of adaptation without being eliminated : and not only does
the worker think, but the fact that he gets no immediate satisfaction
from his work and realises that they are trying to reduce him to a
trained gorilla, can lead him into a train of thought that is far from
conformist. That the industrialists are concerned about such things
is made clear from a whole series of cautionary measures and
"educative" initatives which are well brought out in Ford's books
and the work of Philip. 40

HIGH WAGES

It is an obvious reflection that so-called high wages are a transitory
form of remuneration. Adaptation to the new methods of produc-
tion and work cannot take place simply through social compulsion.
This is a "prejudice" which is widespread in Europe and even more
so in Japan, which cannot fail before long to have serious conse-
quences for the physical and psychic health of the workers. It is,
furthermore, a prejudice which has its roots only in the endemic
unemployment which has been a feature of the post-war period. If
the situation were "normal", the apparatus of coercion needed to
obtain the desired result would involve more than just high wages.
Coercion has therefore to be ingeniously combined with persuasion
and consent. This effect can be achieved, in forms proper to the
society in question, by higher remuneration such as to permit a
particular living standard which can maintain and restore the
strength that has been worn down by the new form of toil. But no
sooner have the new methods of work and production been
generalised and diffused, the new type of worker been created
universally and the apparatus of material production further
perfected, no sooner has this happened than the excessive
"turnover" has automatically to be restricted by widespread
unemployment, and high wages disappear. In reality American
high-wage industry is still exploiting a monopoly granted to it by

40 Henry Ford (with Samuel Crowther), My Life and Work, Garden City and
London, ig22: and Today and Tomorrow, Garden City. Andre Philip, Le Problimt
ouvrier, cit.

The "educative initiatives" referred to are presumably institutions like the
Henry Ford Trade School, created in 1916 for the further education of workers.

AMERICANISM AND FORDISM

311

the fact that it has the initiative with the new methods. Monopoly
•wages correspond to monopoly profits. But the monopoly will
necessarily be first limited and then destroyed by the further
diffusion of the new methods both within the United States and
abroad (compare the Japanese phenomenon of low-priced goods),
and high wages will disappear along with enormous profits. Also it is
well known that high wages are of necessity connected with a labour
aristocracy and are not granted to all American workers.

The whole Fordian ideology of high wages is a phenomenon
derived from an objective necessity of modern industry when it has
reached a certain stage of development. It is not a primary phe-
nomenon — which does not however exonerate one from studying
its importance and the. repercussions that the ideology can have
on its own account. Meanwhile, what is meant by "high wages" ?
Are the wages paid by Ford high only in relation to the average
American wage? Or are they high as a price to be paid for the
labouring power expended by Ford's employees in production and
with those methods of work ? It doesn't seem that any systematic
research has been done on this, but that alone could provide a
conclusive answer. The research is difficult, but the reasons why
it is difficult are in themselves an indirect answer to the problem.
The answer is difficult because the skilled labour force at Ford is
extremely unstable and as a result it is not possible to establish an
average for "rational" turnover among Ford workers for the purpose
of comparison with the average in other industries. But why is it
unstable ? Why on earth should a worker prefer lower wages than
those paid by Ford? Does this not mean that the so-called "high
wages" are less capable of reconstituting the labour power expended
than the lower wages paid by other firms ? The instability of the
labour force demonstrates that as far as Ford's is concerned the
normal conditions of workers' competition for jobs (wage differ-
entials) are effective only to a limited degree. The different level
of average wages is not effective, nor is the pressure of the reserve
army of the unemployed. This means that in dealing with Ford a
new element must be looked for, and this new element will be the
origin both of the high wages and of the other phenomena referred
to (instability, etc.). The new element must be looked for in this
fact alone: that Ford's industry requires a discrimination, a qualifi-
cation, in its workers, which other industries do not yet call for,
a new type of qualification, a form of consumption of labour power
and a quantity of power consumed in average hours which are the
same numerically but which are more wearying and exhausting

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than elsewhere and which, in the given conditions of society as it
is, the wages are not sufficient to recompense and make up for.

Once these reasons have been established, the problem arises;
whether the type of industry and organisation of work and produc-
tion typical of Ford is rational ; whether, that is, it can and should
be generalised, or whether, on the other hand, we are not dealing
with a malignant phenomenon which must be fought against
through trade-union action and through legislation? In other
words, whether it is possible, with the material and moral pressure
of society and of the State, to lead the workers as a mass to undergo
the entire process of psycho-physical transformation so that the
average type of Ford worker becomes the average type of worker in
general? Or whether this is impossible because it would lead to
physical degeneration and to deterioration of the species, with the
consequent destruction of all labour power? It seems possible to
reply that the Ford method is rational, that is, that it should be
generalised; but that a long process is needed for this, during which
a change must take place in social conditions and in the way of life
and the habits of individuals. This, however, cannot take place
through coercion alone, but only through tempering compulsion
(self-discipline) with persuasion. Persuasion should also take the
form of high wages, which offer the possibility of a better standard
of living, or more exactly perhaps, the possibility of realising a
standard of living which is adequate to the new methods of produc-
tion and work which demand a particular degree of expenditure of
muscular and nervous energy.

To a limited but none the less important degree, phenomena
similar to those created on a large scale by Fordism have been and
still are occurring in certain branches of industry and in certain
not yet "Fordised" establishments. To build up an organic and
well-articulated skilled labour force in a factory or a team of
specialised workers, has never been easy. Once the labour force or
the team has been built up, its components, or a part of them,
sometimes not only finish up enjoying monopoly wages but are not
dismissed from work in the event of a temporary check in production.
It would be uneconomic to allow the elements of an organic whole
so laboriously built up to be dispersed, because it would be almost
impossible to bring them together again, while on the other hand
reconstructing it with new elements, chosen haphazardly, would
involve not inconsiderable effort and expense. This is a limitation
on the law of competition determined by the reserve army and by
unemployment, and this limitation has always been at the origin

AMERICANISM AND FORDISM

313

of the formation of privileged labour aristocracies. Since there has
never functioned and does not function any law of perfect parity
of systems and production and work methods valid for all firms in
a specific branch of industry, it follows that every firm is, to a
greater or less degree, "unique" and will form a labour force with
qualifications proper to its own particular requirements. Little
manufacturing and working secrets, or "fiddles", practised by this
labour force, which in themselves seem insignificant, can, when
repeated an infinite number of times, assume immense economic
importance. A particular case of this can be observed in the organisa-
tion of work in the docks, particularly in ports where there is an
imbalance between loading and unloading of goods or where
seasonal pile-ups of goods alternate with seasons which are entirely
dead. There has to be a skilled labour force which is permanently
available (which does not absent itself from the place of work) to
deal with the minimum of seasonal or other work, and this leads
to the formation of a kind of closed shop with high wages and other
privileges, opposed to the mass of "casual" workers. The same
thing happens in agriculture, in the relationship between tenant
farmers and "braccianti"* 1 and also in many industries which have
"dead" seasons, either for reasons inherent in the industry itself
(as with the clothing industry) or because of the inefficient organisa-
tion of the wholesale trade which does its buying according to a
pattern of its own which is not properly geared to the pattern of
production.

SHARES, DEBENTURES AND GOVERNMENT BONDS

What radical change will be brought about in the area of small
and medium savings by the present economic depression, if, as
seems probable, it continues for some time to come? It can be
observed that the slump in the stock market has produced an
enormous shift of wealth and a phenomenon of "simultaneous"
expropriation of the savings of vast masses of the population almost
everywhere, but in America most of all. Thus the malignant pro-
cesses which had grown up as a result of inflation just after the war
have started up again in a number of countries and have begun to
operate in countries which did not experience inflation in the

41 "braccianti": landless agricultural labourers, who are not fixed wage earners
but are hired by the day according to the work to be done. The problems of
organising in a single movement "braccianti" and small tenant farmers, with
their obviously conflicting immediate interests, were particularly acute in the
Ro magna and the Po Valley. See also p. 75.

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GRAMS CI : PRISON NOTEBOOKS

earlier period. The system whose application the Italian govern-
ment has intensified in the last few years (continuing a tradition
which already existed, though on a smaller scale) appears the most
organic and rational, at least for a certain group of countries. But
what are its consequences likely to be ?

Difference between ordinary and preference shares, between
these and debentures, and between shares and debentures on the
free market and government bonds.

The mass of savers is trying to get rid of shares of every kind,
which have been devalued to an unprecedented degree. It prefers
debentures to shares, but it prefers government bonds to any other
form of investment. It could be said that the mass of savers wants
to break off any direct connection with the ensemble of private,
capitalism, but that it does not refuse its confidence to the State,
It wants to take part in economic activity, but through the State,
which can guarantee a modest but sure return on investment. The
State thus finds itself invested with a primordial function in the
capitalist system, both as a company (state holdings) which con-
centrates the savings to be put at the disposal of private industry
and activity, and as a medium and long-term investor (creation in
Italy of various mortgage houses, industrial reconstruction, etc.,
transformation of the Banca Commerciale, 42 consolidation of the
savings banks, creation of new forms of Post-Office savings, etc.).
But once, through unavoidable economic necessity, the State has
assumed this function, can it fail to interest itself in the organisation
of production and exchange ? Will it leave it, as before, up to the
initiative of competition and private initiative? If this were to
happen, the crisis of confidence that has struck private industry
and commerce would overwhelm the State as well. The formation
of a situation which obliged the State to devalue its bonds, either
through inflation or otherwise, in the same way as private shares
have been devalued, would become catastrophic for the ensemble of
socio-economic organisation. The State is therefore led necessarily
to intervene in order to check whether the investments which have
taken place through State means are properly administered. This

" Mortgage houses. The most important of these was the Istituto Mobiliare
Italiano, formed in November 1931, during the Great Depression, which issued
Government guaranteed bonds and provided investment loans to small and
medium-sized commercial and industrial enterprises. The transformation of the
Banca Commerciale took place at the same time, the Bank receiving Government
help when it was in danger of collapse.

In this passage the words "holding", "deficit" and "dumping" are all in
English in the text.

AMERICANISM AND FORDISM 3 1 5

explains at least one aspect of the theoretical discussion about the
corporate regime. But control by itself is not sufficient. It is not
just a question of preserving the productive apparatus just as it is
at a given moment. It is a matter of reorganising it in order to
develop it in parallel with the increase in the population, and in
collective needs. It is in these necessary developments that private
initiative is involved in the greatest risks, and here therefore that
State intervention should be even greater, not that it is entirely
free from dangers itself, indeed far from it.

These elements are emphasised, as being the most organic and
essential. But there are also other elements which are leading
towards State intervention, or provide a theoretical justification for
it — increasing protectionism and autarkic tendencies, investment
premiums, dumping, salvaging of large enterprises which are in the
process, or in danger of going bankrupt; in other words, as the
phase goes, the "nationalisation of losses and industrial deficits"
(etc.).

If the State were proposing to impose an economic direction by
which the production of savings ceased to a "function" of a parasitic
class and became a function of the productive organism itself, such
a hypothetical development would be progressive, and could have
its part in a vast design of integral rationalisation. But for that it
would be necessary to promote both agrarian reform (involving the
abolition of landed income of a non-working class, and its incorpora-
tion into the productive organism in the form of collective savings
to be dedicated to reconstruction and further progress), and an
industrial reform. One could thus reduce all income to the status
of technico-industrial functional necessities and no longer keep them
as the juridical consequences of pure property rights.

This complex of demands, not always acknowledged, is at the
origin of the historical justification of the so-called corporate trends,
which manifest themselves for the most part in the form of an
exaltation of the State in general, conceived as something absolute,
and in the form of diffidence and aversion to the traditional forms
of capitalism. The result of these phenomena is that in theory the
State appears to have its socio-political base among the ordinary
folk and the intellectuals, while in reality its structure remains
plutocratic and it is impossible for it to break its links with big
finance capital. Besides, it is the State itself which becomes the
biggest plutocratic organism, the holding of the masses of savings
of the small capitalists. (The Jesuit state of Paraguay could be
usefully recalled as a model for a number of contemporary ten-

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dencies. That a State can exist politically based simultaneously on
the plutocracy and on the "ordinary folk" is not in any case entirely
contradictory, as is proved by the example of France, where the
rule of finance capital could not be explained without the political
base of a democracy of petit-bourgeois and peasant rentiers. For
complex reasons, however, France still has a relatively healthy
social composition, since there exists there a broad base of small and
medium-sized farming properties. In other countries, on the other
hand, the savers are cut off from the world of production and work.
Saving in these countries has too high a social cost, as it is obtained
with a level of existence for industrial and especially agricultural
workers which is far too low. If the new structure of credit were to
consolidate this situation, in reality it would be a turn for the worse.
If parasitic savings, thanks to State guarantees, were to be rendered
exempt even from the general hazards of the normal market, then
on the one hand parasitic landed property would be strengthened
and on the other hand industrial debentures, with legally determined
dividends, would undoubtedly impose an even more crushing burden
on labour.

AMERICAN AND EUROPEAN CIVILISATION

In an interview given to Corrado Alvaro ( L' Italia Letteraria, 1 4 April
1929) Luigi Pirandello declares: "Americanism is swamping us. I
think that a new beacon of civilisation has been lit over there." "The
money that runs through the world is American (?!), and behind
the money (?!) runs the way of life and the culture." (This is true
only of the scum of society, and it is this cosmopolitan scum that
Pirandello, and many others with him, thinks makes up the whole
"world".) "Does America have a culture?" (It would be more
to the point to say: does it have a unitary and centralised culture,
i.e. is America a nation of the French, German or English type?)
"It has books and customs(?). Its customs are its new literature,
which penetrates through the best fortified and defended doors. In
Berlin you do not feel the gap between the old and the new Europe,
because the structure of the city itself offers no resistance." (Today
Pirandello could no longer say the same thing, so it is to be under-
stood that he is referring to the Berlin of the night clubs.) "In Paris,
where there is an historical and artistic structure, where the evidence
of an indigenous civilisation is present, Americanism is as strident
and jarring as the make-up on the face of an aging femme du monde."
The problem is not whether in America there exists a new

AMERICANISM AND FORDISM 317

civilisation, a new culture, even if only as a "beacon", and whether
it is invading or has invaded Europe. If the problem were to be
posed in that way, the answer would be simple: no, it does not
exist, and indeed all that they do in America is to remasticate the
old European culture. The problem is rather this; whether America,
through the implacable weight of its economic production (and
therefore indirectly), will compel or is already compelling Europe
to overturn its excessively antiquated economic and social basis.
This would have happened anyway, though only slowly. In the
immediate perspective it is presented as a repercussion of American
super-power. In other words, whether we are undergoing a trans-
formation of the material bases of European civilisation, which in
the long run (though not all that long, since in the contemporary
period everything happens much faster than in the past ages) will
bring about the overthrow of the existing forms of civilisation and
the forced birth of a new.

The elements of a "new culture" and "new way of life" which
are being spread around under the American label, are still just
tentative feelers. They are not due to a new "order" deriving from
a new basis, because that has not yet been formed, but are due to
the superficial apish initiative of elements which are beginning to
feel themselves socially displaced by the operation (still destructive
and dissolutive) of the new basis in the course of formation. What
is today called "Americanism" is to a large extent an advance
criticism of old strata which will in fact be crushed by any eventual
new order and which are already in the grips of a wave of social
panic, dissolution and despair. It is an unconscious attempt at
reaction on the part of those who are impotent to rebuild and who
are emphasising the negative aspects of the revolution. But it is not
from the social groups "condemned" by the new order that recon-
struction is to be expected, but from those on whom is imposed the
burden of creating with their own suffering the material bases of
the new order. It is they who "must" find for themselves an
"original", and not Americanised, system of living, to turn into
"freedom" what today is "necessity".

The criterion then is that both the intellectual and moral reac-
tions against the establishment of the new methods of production,
and the superficial praises of Americanism, are due to the remains
of old, disintegrating strata, and not to groups whose destiny is
linked to the further development of the new method. This criterion
is extremely important, and explains how it is that some elements
in responsible positions in modern politics, who base their fortunes

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on the organisation of middle strata of the population as a whole,
do not wish to take up a position but remain "theoretically"
neutral, and resolve practical problems by the traditional methods
of empiricism and opportunism. (Compare the various interpreta-
tions of ruralism given by Ugo Spirito, who wants to "urbanise" the
countryside, and by other writers blowing on their panpipes.)

In the case of Americanism, understood not only as a form of
cafe life but as an ideology of the kind represented by Rotary
Clubs, we are not dealing with a new type of civilisation. This is
shown by the fact that nothing has been changed in the character
of and the relationships between fundamental groups. What we are
dealing with is an organic extension and an intensification of
European civilisation, which has simply acquired a new coating
in the American climate. Pirandello's observation on the opposition
that Americanism encounters in Paris (but in Le Creusot?) and
on the immediate welcome that it supposedly had in Berlin proves,
in any case, that the difference between it and "Europeanism" is
not one of nature but of degree. In Berlin the middle classes had
already been ruined by the war and by inflation, and Berlin
industry has very different characteristics overall from that of Paris.
The French middle classes did not undergo either occasional crises,
like the inflation in Germany, nor did they suffer the organic crisis
of 1929 with the same intensity as Germany. For this reason it is
true that in Paris Americanism can appear like a form of make-up,
a superficial foreign fashion.

Ill

THE PHILOSOPHY
OF PRAXIS

I

THE STUDY OF PHILOSOPHY

INTRODUCTION

This section of Gramsci's philosophical notebooks is in two parts.
The first part, Some Preliminary Points of Reference, starts by suggesting
the terms of a Marxist historicist approach to philosophical activity,
seeing it as organised critical reflection on existing forms of thought
and their relation to the actual world which produced them. The
premiss behind this approach is that philosophy is not just the
abstract cogitation of a few professional intellectuals but a concrete
social activity in which, implicitly, all men are engaged. If this is
the starting-point from which the Marxist philosopher determines
his own critique of philosophy, it follows that Marxist philosophy
itself must be seen as a collective activity, involving not only the
dissemination of ideas from above but also the extension of critical
intellectual activity, in close links with the political practice of the
movement, among ever-broadening sections of the population. In
this way ideas are not only corrected and made adequate to the
situation but become, in the phrase of Marx frequently quoted by
Gramsci, "a material force".

The second part, Problems of Philosophy and History, consists of a
number of notes from the Quaderni dealing with the application of
Gramsci's theory of philosophy as a "critico-practical activity" to
problems thrown up by the philosophy of the time at which
Gramsci was writing. The problematic which Gramsci is criticising
is mainly idealistic, and at first sight it may seem that what he
does is to take this problematic and modify or invert its terms in a
Marxist direction. If this were the case there would be some sub-
stance in the point of view that Gramsci's philosophy fails to escape
from the idealist matrix provided by the culture of his time. Such an
impression is strengthened by the fragmentary and elliptical charac-
ter of many of the notes, which often fail to make explicit the real
connection between the subject treated and the "philosophy of
praxis". In point of fact, however, Gramsci's procedure is more
radical than it looks. He is not juggling abstractly with the ideas he
criticises, but always sets them in an implied or explicit historical
perspective. Essential to Gramsci's approach is the notion that an
intellectual revolution is not performed by simply confronting one
philosophy with another. It is not just the ideas that require to
be confronted but the social forces behind them and, more directly,

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the ideology these forces have generated and which has become
part of what Gramsci calls "common sense". This last term is used
by Gramsci to mean the uncritical and largely unconscious way of
perceiving and understanding the world that has become "common"
in any given epoch. (Correspondingly he uses the phrase "good
sense" to mean the practical, but not necessarily rational or scientific
attitude that in English is usually called common sense.) The
critique of "common sense" and that of "the philosophy of the
philosophers" are therefore complementary aspects of a single
ideological struggle. This struggle must be waged, as Gramsci
himself wages it, with the utmost intensity, but its ultimate resolu-
tion lies on another terrain, that of "revolutionising praxis", which
alone can determine the forms of thought appropriate to the
new age.

THE STUDY OF PHILOSOPHY

SOME PRELIMINARY POINTS OF REFERENCE

It is essential to destroy the widespread prejudice that philosophy
is a strange and difficult thing just because it is the specific intellec-
tual activity of a particular category of specialists or of professional
and systematic philosophers. It must first be shown that all men are
"philosophers", by defining the limits and characteristics of the
"spontaneous philosophy" which is proper to everybody. This
philosophy is contained in: i. language itself, which is a totality
of determined notions and concepts and not just of words gram-
matically devoid of content; 2. "common sense" and "good sense"; 1
3. popular religion and, therefore, also in the entire system of
beliefs, superstitions, opinions, ways of seeing things and of acting,
which are collectively bundled together under the name of
"folklore".

Having first shown that everyone is a philosopher, though in his
own way and unconsciously, since even in the slightest manifestation
of any intellectual activity whatever, in "language", there is con-
tained a . specific conception of the world, one then moves on to
the second level, which is that of awareness and criticism. That is
to say, one proceeds to the question — is it better to "think", without
having a critical awareness, in a disjointed and episodic way? In
other words, is it better to take part in a conception of the world
mechanically imposed by the external environment, i.e. by one of
the many social groups in which everyone is automatically involved
from the moment of his entry into the conscious world (and this
can be one's village or province; it can have its origins in the parish
and the "intellectual activity" of the local priest or aging patriarch
whose wisdom is law, or in the little old woman who has inherited
the lore of the witches or the minor intellectual soured by his own
stupidity and inability to act) ? Or, on the other hand, is it better to
work out consciously and critically one's own conception of the
world and thus, in connection with the labours of one's own brain,
choose one's sphere of activity, take an active part in the creation,
of the history of the world, be one's own guide, refusing to accept

1 The meaning that Gramsci gives to these two terms is explained in the
paragraphs which follow. Broadly speaking, "common sense" means the incoherent
set of generally held assumptions and beliefs common to any given society, while
"good sense" means practical empirical common sense in the English sense of
the term. See also introduction to this section.

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passively and supinely from outside the moulding of one's
personality ?

Note I. In acquiring one's conception of the world one always
belongs to a particular grouping which is that of all the social
elements which share the same mode of thinking and acting. We
are all conformists of some conformism or other, always man-in-
the-mass or collective man. The question is this: of what historical
type is the conformism, the mass humanity to which one belongs ?
When one's conception of the world is not critical and coherent
but disjointed and episodic, one belongs simultaneously to a
multiplicity of mass human groups. The personality is strangely
composite: it contains Stone Age elements and principles ofa more
advanced science, prejudices from all past phases of history at
the local level and intuitions of a future philosophy which will
be that of a human race united the world over. To criticise one's
own conception of the world means therefore to make it a coherent
unity and to raise it to the level reached by the most advanced
thought in the world. It therefore also means criticism of all
previous philosophy, in so far as this has left stratified deposits
in popular philosophy. The starting-point of critical elaboration
is the consciousness of what one really is, and is "knowing thy-
self" 2 as a product of the historical process to date which has
deposited in you an infinity of traces, without leaving an inventory.

Note II. Philosophy cannot be separated from the history of
philosophy, nor can culture from the history of culture. In the
most immediate and relevant sense, one cannot be a philosopher,
by which I mean have a critical and coherent conception of the
world, without having a consciousness of its historicity, of the
phase of development which it represents and of the fact that it
contradicts other conceptions or elements of other conceptions.
One's conception of the world is a response to certain specific
problems posed by reality, which are quite specific and "original"
in their immediate relevance. How is it possible to consider the
present, and quite specific present, with a mode of thought
elaborated for a past which is often remote and superseded?
When someone does this, it means that he is a walking anach-
ronism, a fossil, and not living in the modern world, or at the
least that he is strangely composite. And it is in fact the case
that social groups which in some ways express the most developed

* "Know thyself" was the inscription written above the gate of the Oracle at
Delphi, and became a principle of Socratic philosophy.

THE STUDY OF PHILOSOPHY

325

modernity, lag behind in other respects, given their social position,
and are therefore incapable of complete historical autonomy.

Note III. If it is true that every language contains the elements
of a conception of the world and of a culture, it could also be
true that from anyone's language one can assess the greater or
lesser complexity of his conception of the world. Someone who
only speaks dialect, or understands the standard language incom-
pletely, necessarily has an intuition of the world which is more
or less limited and provincial, which is fossilised and anachronistic
in relation to the major currents of thought which dominate
world history. His interests will be limited, more or less corporate
or economistic, 3 not universal. While it is not always possible to
learn a number of foreign languages in order to put oneself in
contact with other cultural lives, it is at the least necessary to
learn the national language properly. A great culture can be
translated into the language of another great culture, that is to
say a great national language with historic richness and com-
plexity, and it can translate any other great culture and can be a
world-wide means of expression. But a dialect cannot do this.

Note IV. Creating a new culture does not only mean one's
own individual "original" discoveries. It also, and most par-
ticularly, means the diffusion in a critical form of truths already
discovered, their "socialisation" as it were, and even making
them the basis of vital action, 4 an element of co-ordination and
intellectual and moral order. For a mass of people to be led to
think coherently and in the same coherent fashion about the real
present world, is a "philosophical" event far more important and
"original" than the discovery by some philosophical "genius" of a
truth which remains the property of small groups of intellectuals.

Connection between "common sense", religion and philosophy

Philosophy is intellectual order, which neither religion nor common
sense can be. It is to be observed that religion and common sense
do not coincide either, but that religion is an element of fragmented
common sense. Moreover common sense is a collective noun, like
religion: there is not just one common sense, for that too is a product

' See note on Gramsci's terminology, pp. xiii xiv.

* "vital action." The concept here would appear to derive from Bergson, some
of whose ideas were filtered to Gramsci through Sorel and in a sense provided
him with a psychological antidote to the fatalism of Austro-Marxism. There is
no question, however, of Bergson having had a systematic influence on Gramsci's
"philosophy of praxis" as such.

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of history and a part of the historical process. 5 Philosophy is
criticism and the superseding of religion and "common sense". In
this sense it coincides with "good" as opposed to "common" sense.

Relation between science, religion and common sense
Religion and common sense cannot constitute an intellectual order,
because they cannot be reduced to unity and coherence even within
an individual consciousness, let alone collective consciousness. Or
rather they cannot be so reduced "freely" — for this may be done
by "authoritarian" means, and indeed within limits this has been
done in the past.

Note the problem of religion taken not in the confessional sense
but in the secular sense of a unity of faith between a conception of
the world and a corresponding norm of conduct. But why call this
unity of faith "religion" and not "ideology", or even frankly
"politics"? 6

Philosophy in general does not in fact exist. Various philosophies
or conceptions of the world exist, and one always makes a choice
between them. How is this choice made? Is it merely an intellectual
event, or is it something more complex? And is it not frequently
the case that there is a contradiction between one's intellectual
choice and one's mode of conduct? Which therefore would be the
real conception of the world : that logically affirmed as an intellectual
choice ? or that which emerges from the real activity of each man,
which is implicit in his mode of action? And since all action is
political, can one not say that the real philosophy of each man is
contained in its entirety in his political action ?

This contrast between thought and action, i.e. the co-existence
of two conceptions of the world, one affirmed in words and the
other displayed in effective action, is not simply a product of self-

* "part of the historical process." In the original "un divenire storico" historical
becoming. For this aspect of common sense see Int., p. 144: "Every social stratum
has its own 'common sense' and its own 'good sense', which are basically the
most widespread conception of life and of man. Every philosophical current
leaves behind a sedimentation of 'common sense' : this is the document of its
historical effectiveness. Common sense is not something rigid and immobile, but
is continually transforming itself, enriching itself with scientific ideas and with
philosophical opinions which have entered ordinary life. 'Common sense' is the
folklore of philosophy, and is always half-way between folklore properly speaking
and the philosophy, science, and economics of the specialists. Common sense
creates the folklore of the future, that is as a relatively rigid phase of popular
knowledge at a given place and time."

• For Gramsci's uses of "ideology" in its various senses see pp. 375 77.

By "politics" Gramsci means conscious action (praxis) in pursuit of a common
social goal.

THE STUDY OF PHILOSOPHY

327

deception [malqfede] . Self-deception can be an adequate explanation
for a few individuals taken separately, or even for groups of a
certain size, but it is not adequate when the contrast occurs in the
life of great masses. In these cases the contrast between thought and
action cannot but be the expression of profounder contrasts of a
social historical order. It signifies that the social group in question
may indeed have its own conception of the world, even if only
embryonic; a conception which manifests itself in action, but
occasionally and in flashes — when, that is, the group is acting as an
organic totality. But this same group has, for reasons of submission
and intellectual subordination, adopted a conception which is not
its own but is borrowed from another group; and it affirms this
conception verbally and believes itself to be following it, because
this is the conception which it follows in "normal times" 7 — that
is when its conduct is not independent and autonomous, but sub-
missive and subordinate. Hence the reason why philosophy cannot
be divorced from politics. And one can show furthermore that the
choice and the criticism of a conception of the world is also a
political matter.

What must next be explained is how it happens that in all
periods there co-exist many systems and currents of philosophical
thought, how these currents are born, how they are diffused, and
why in the process of diffusion they fracture along certain lines and
in certain directions. The fact of this process goes to show how
necessary it is to order in a systematic, coherent and critical fashion
one's own intuitions of life and the world, and to determine exactly
what is to be understood by the word "systematic", so that it is
not taken in the pedantic and academic sense. But this elaboration
must be, and can only be, performed in the context of the history
of philosophy, for it is this history which shows how thought has
been elaborated over the centuries and what a collective effort has
gone into the creation of our present method of thought which has
subsumed and absorbed all this past history, including all its
follies and mistakes. Nor should these mistakes themselves be neg-
lected, for, although made in the past and since corrected, one
cannot be sure that they will not be reproduced in the present
and once again require correcting.

What is the popular image of philosophy ? It can be reconstructed
by looking at expressions in common usage. One of the most usual

' "normal times": as opposed to the exceptional (and hence potentially
revolutionary) moments in history in which a class or group discovers its objective
and subjective unity in action.

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is "being philosophical about it", which, if you consider it, is not
to be entirely rejected as a phrase. It is true that it contains an
implicit invitation to resignation and patience, but it seems to me
that the most important point is rather the invitation to people to
reflect and to realise fully that whatever happens is basically rational
and must be confronted as such, and that one should apply one's
power of rational concentration and not let oneself be carried
away by instinctive and violent impulses. These popular turns of
phrase could be compared with similar expressions used by writers
of a popular stamp — examples being drawn from a large dictionary
— which contain the terms "philosophy" or "philosophically". One
can see from these examples that the terms have a quite precise
meaning: that of overcoming bestial and elemental passions through
a conception of necessity which gives a conscious direction to one's
activity. This is the healthy nucleus that exists in "common sense",
the part of it which can be called "good sense" and which deserves
to be made more unitary and coherent. So it appears that here
again it is not possible to separate what is known as "scientific"
philosophy from the common and popular philosophy which is only
a fragmentary collection of ideas and opinions.

But at this point we reach the fundamental problem facing any
conception of the world, any philosophy which has become a
cultural movement, a "religion", a "faith", any that has produced
a form of practical activity or will in which the philosophy is con-
tained as an implicit theoretical "premiss". One might say "ideology"
here, but on condition that the word is used in its highest sense
of a conception of the world that is implicitly manifest in art, in
law, in economic activity and in all manifestations of individual and
collective life. This problem is that of preserving the ideological
unity of the entire social bloc which that ideology serves to cement
and to unify. The strength of religions, and of the Catholic church
in particular, has lain, and still lies, in the fact that they feel very
strongly the need for the doctrinal unity of the whole mass of the
faithful and strive to ensure that the higher intellectual stratum does
not get separated from the lower. The Roman church has always
been the most vigorous in the struggle to prevent the "official"
formation of two religions, one for the "intellectuals" and the other
for the "simple souls". This struggle has not been without serious
disadvantages for the Church itself, but these disadvantages are
connected with the historical process which is transforming the
whole of civil society and which contains overall a corrosive critique
of all religion, and they only serve to emphasise the organisational

THE STUDY OF PHILOSOPHY

3=9

capacity of the clergy in the cultural sphere and the abstractly
rational and just relationship which the Church has been able to
establish in its own sphere between the intellectuals and the simple.
The Jesuits have undoubtedly been the major architects of this
equilibrium, and it order to preserve it they have given the Church
a progressive forward movement which has tended to allow the
demands of science and philosophy to be to a certain extent satisfied.
But the rhythm of the movement has been so slow and methodical
that the changes have passed unobserved by the mass of the simple,
although they appear "revolutionary" and demagogic to the
"integralists". 8

One of the greatest weaknesses of immanentist 9 philosophies in
general consists precisely in the fact that they have not been able
to create an ideological unity between the bottom and the top,
between the "simple" and the intellectuals. In the history of
Western civilisation the fact is exemplified on a European scale,
with the rapid collapse of the Renaissance and to a certain extent
also the Reformation faced with the Roman church. Their weakness
is demonstrated in the educational field, in that the immanentist
philosophies have not even attempted to construct a conception
which could take the place of religion in the education of children.
Hence the pseudo-historicist sophism whereby non-religious, non-
confessional, and in reality atheist, educationalists justify allowing
the teaching of religion on the grounds that religion is the philosophy
of the infancy of mankind renewed in every non-metaphorical
infancy. Idealism has also shown itself opposed to cultural move-
ments which "go out to the people", as happened with the so-called
"Popular Universities" 10 and similar institutions. Nor was the objec-
tion solely to the worst aspects of the institutions, because in that
case they could simply have tried to improve them. And yet these
movements were worthy of attention, and deserved study. They
enjoyed a certain success, in the sense that they demonstrated on

8 "integralists." See note 13 on p. 332.

9 By "immanentist philosophies" Gramsci normally means Italian idealism of
the beginning of the century (Croce, Gentile, etc.), one of whose features was its
rejection of Catholic transcendentalism; but he uses the term here also to char-
acterise much of the philosophical thought of, for example, the Renaissance,
which was in a similar way hermetic and incapable of extending its influence
beyond elite circles. It should be noted however that Gramsci also describes the
philosophy of praxis as in a different sense "immanentist", in that it offers the
most consistent rejection of any form of transcendence.

10 "Popular Universities" Universitd Popolari. Independent institutes of adult
education, more or less equivalent in scope, though not in extension, to the
English W.E.A.

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the part of the "simple" a genuine enthusiasm and a strong deter-
mination to attain a higher cultural level and a higher conception
of the world. What was lacking, however, was any organic quality
either of philosophical thought or of organisational stability and
central cultural direction. One got the impression that it was all
rather like the first contacts of English merchants and the negroes
of Africa: trashy baubles were handed out in exchange for nuggets
of gold. In any case one could only have had cultural stability and
an organic quality of thought if there had existed the same unity
between the intellectuals and the simple as there should be between
theory and practice. That is, if the intellectuals had been organically
the intellectuals of those masses, and if they had worked out and
made coherent the principles and the problems raised by the masses
in their practical activity, thus constituting a cultural and social
bloc. The question posed here was the one we have already referred
to, namely this: is a philosophical movement properly so called
when it is devoted to creating a specialised culture among restricted
intellectual groups, or rather when, and only when, in the process
of elaborating a form of thought superior to "common sense" and
coherent on a scientific plane, it never forgets to remain in contact
with the "simple" and indeed finds in this contact the source of
the problems it sets out to study and to resolve ? Only by this contact
does a philosophy become "historical", purify itself of intellectualistic
elements of an individual character and become "life".*

A philosophy of praxis 11 cannot but present itself at the outset
in a polemical and critical guise, as superseding the existing mode
of thinking and existing concrete thought (the existing cultural
world). First of all, therefore, it must be a criticism of "common
sense", basing itself initially, however, on common sense in order
to demonstrate that "everyone" is a philosopher and that it is not
a question of introducing from scratch a scientific form of thought

* Perhaps it is useful to make a "practical" distinction between philosophy
and common sense in order to indicate more clearly the passage from one moment
to the other. In philosophy the features of individual elaboration of thought are
the most salient: in common sense on the other hand it is the diffuse, unco-ordinated
features of a generic form of thought common to a particular period and a
particular popular environment. But every philosophy has a tendency to become
the common sense of a fairly limited environment (that of all the intellectuals).
It is a matter therefore of starting with a philosophy which already enjoys, or
could enjoy, a certain diffusion, because it is connected to and implicit in practical
life, and elaborating it so that it becomes a renewed common sense possessing the
coherence and the sinew of individual philosophies. But this can only happen if
the demands of cultural contact with the "simple" are continually felt.

11 "philosophy of praxis." See Introduction, p. xxi.

THE STUDY OF PHILOSOPHY 33 j

into everyone's individual life, but of renovating and making
"critical" an already existing activity. It must then be a criticism
of the philosophy of the intellectuals out of which the history of
philosophy developed and which, in so far as it is a phenomenon
of individuals (in fact it develops essentially in the activity of single
particularly gifted individuals) can be considered as marking the
"high points" of the progress made by common sense, or at least
the common sense of the more educated strata of society but
through them also of the people. Thus an introduction to the
study of philosophy must expound in synthetic form the problems
that have grown up in the process of the development of culture
as a whole and which are only partially reflected in the history of
philosophy. (Nevertheless it is the history of philosophy which, in
the absence of a history of common sense, impossible to reconstruct
for lack of documentary material, must remain the main source of
reference.) The purpose of the synthesis must be to criticise the
problems, to demonstrate their real value, if any, and the significance
they have had as superseded links of an intellectual chain, and to
determine what the new contemporary problems are and how the
old problems should now be analysed.

The relation between common sense and the upper level of
philosophy is assured by "politics", just as it is politics that assures
the relationship between the Catholicism of the intellectuals and
that of the simple. There are, however, fundamental differences
between the two cases. That the Church has to face up to a problem
of the "simple" means precisely that there has been a split in the
community of the faithful. This split cannot be healed by raising
the simple to the level of the intellectuals (the Church does not
even envisage such a task, which is both ideologically and eco-
nomically beyond its present capacities), but only by imposing an
iron discipline on the intellectuals so that they do not exceed certain
limits of differentiation and so render the split catastrophic and
irreparable. In the past such divisions in the community of the
faithful were healed by strong mass movements which led to, or
were absorbed in, the creation of new religious orders centred on
strong personalities (St. Dominic, St. Francis).*

* The heretical movements o f the Middle Ages were a simultaneous reaction
against the politicking of the Church and against the scholastic philosophy which
expressed this. They were based on social conflicts determined by the birth of
the Communes, and represented a split between masses and intellectuals within
the Church. This split was "stitched over" by the birth of popular religious
movements subsequently reabsorbed by the Church through the formation of the
mendicant orders and a new religious unity.

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But the Counter-Reformation has rendered sterile this upsurge
of popular forces. The Society of Jesus is the last of the great
religious orders. Its origins were reactionary and authoritarian, and
its character repressive and "diplomatic". 12 Its birth marked the
hardening of the Catholic organism. New orders which have grown
up since then have very little religious significance but a great
"disciplinary" significance for the mass of the faithful. They are,
or have become, ramifications and tentacles of the Society of Jesus,
instruments of "resistance" to preserve political positions that have
been gained, not forces of renovation and development. Catholicism
has become "Jesuitism". Modernism 13 has not created "religious
orders", but a political party — Christian Democracy.*

The position of the philosophy of praxis is the antithesis of the
Catholic. The philosophy of praxis does not tend to leave the
"simple" in their primitive philosophy of common sense, but
rather to lead them to a higher conception of life. If it affirms
the need for contact between intellectuals and simple it is not in
order to restrict scientific activity and preserve unity at the low
level of the masses, but precisely in order to construct an intellectual-

12 "diplomatic." In a disparaging sense, common in Italian as applied to the
superficial machinations of Italian bourgeois politics from Cavour to Giolitti.

l * "Modernism." A product of the challenge of Socialism among the masses,
Modernism aimed to revitalise the Church as a social force at the end of the
nineteenth century and to counteract the effects of its refusal to allow Catholics
to participate in the affairs of the Italian state. Modernism's concern was with the
relationship of the Church to state and society rather than with theological ques-
tions as such, and its main ideological contribution was the theory of "Christian
Democracy" — a term which is, for this period, to be understood literally. The
Modernist/ Christian-Democrat movement was suppressed under the pontificate
of Pius X (1903-14) but re emerged with Sturzo and the Partito Popolare in
19,18. The reaction to Modernism connected with Pius X goes under the name of
Integralism and was a theological movement aimed at reasserting Church
authority against secularisation. Integralism, although ostensibly purely doctrinal,
had in practice reactionary social effects, and Christian Democracy was for a
long time a progressive trend within the Church. The Partito Popolare adopted
an ambiguous attitude to fascism at the outset, but was nevertheless eventually
banned, along with the other parties, by the regime; it re emerged during the
resistance, as Christian Democracy. The present-day role of Christian Democracy
as a mass political organisation dominated by big capital and the Church hierarchy
dates effectively from 1945 47.

• Recall the anecdote, recounted by Steed in his Memoirs, 14 about the Cardinal
who explains to the pro Catholic English Protestant that the miracles of San
Gennaro [St. Januarius] are an article of faith for the ordinary people of Naples,
but not for the intellectuals, and that even the Gospels contain "exaggerations",
and who answers the question "But aren't we Christians?" with the words "We
are the 'prelates', that is the 'politicians', of the Church of Rome".

14 "Steed's memoirs." Through Thirty Tears, London, 1 924, by Henry Wickham
Steed, a former editor of The Times.

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333

moral bloc which can make politically possible the intellectual
progress of the mass and not only of small intellectual groups.

The active man-in-the-mass has a practical activity, bat has no
clear theoretical consciousness of his practical activity, which none-
theless involves understanding the world in so far as it transforms
it. 15 His theoretical consciousness can indeed be historically in
opposition to his activity. One might almost say that he has two
theoretical consciousnesses (or one contradictory consciousness):
one which is implicit in his activity and which in reality unites
him with all his fellow- workers in the practical transformation of
the real world; and one, superficially explicit or verbal, which he
has inherited from the past and uncritically absorbed. But this
verbal conception is not without consequences. It holds together a
specific social group, it influences moral conduct and the direction of
will, with varying efficacity but often powerfully enough to produce
a situation in which the contradictory state of consciousness does
not permit of any action, any decision or any choice, and produces
a condition of moral and political passivity. Critical understanding
of self takes place therefore through a struggle of political "hege-
monies" and of opposing directions, first in the ethical field and
then in that of politics proper, in order to arrive at the working out
at a higher level of one's own conception of reality. Consciousness
of being part of a particular hegemonic force (that is to say, political
consciousness) is the first stage towards a further progressive self-
consciousness in which theory and practice will finally be cne. Thus
the unity of theory and practice is not just a matter of mechanical
iact, but a part of the historical process, whose elementary and
primitive phase is to be found in the sense of being "different"
and "apart", in an instinctive feeling of independence, and which
progresses to the level of real possession of a single and coherent
conception of the world. This is why it must be stressed that the
political development of the concept of hegemony represents a
great philosophical advance as well as a politico-practical one. 16 For
it necessarily supposes an intellectual unity and an ethic in con-
formity with a conception of reality that has gone beyond common

15 A reference to the 1 1 th of Marx's Theses on Feuerhaeh, which Gramsci interprets
as meaning that philosophy (and, in particular, the philosophy of praxis) is a
socio-practical activity, in which thought and action are reciprocally determined.

18 The reference here is not only to Marx's argument about "ideas becoming
a material force", but also to Lenin and the achievement of proletarian hegemony
through the Soviet revolution (see below pp. 381--82).

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sense and has become, if only within narrow limits, a critical
conception.

However, in the most recent developments of the philosophy of
praxis the exploration and refinement of the concept of the unity of
theory and practice is still only at an early stage. There still remain
residues of mechanicism, since people speak about theory as a
"complement" or an "accessory" of practice, or as the handmaid
of practice. 17 It would seem right for this question too to be con-
sidered historically, as an aspect of the political question of the
intellectuals. Critical self-consciousness means, historically and
politically, the creation of an elite 1 * of intellectuals. A human mass
does not "distinguish" itself, does not become independent in its
own right without, in the widest sense, organising itself; and there is
no organisation without intellectuals, that is without organisers and
leaders, 19 in other words, without the theoretical aspect of the
theory-practice nexus being distinguished concretely by the existence
of a group of people "specialised" in conceptual and philosophical
elaboration of ideas. But the process of creating intellectuals is long,
difficult, full of contradictions, advances and retreats, dispersals and
regroupings, in which the loyalty of the masses is often sorely tried.
(And one must not forget that at this early stage loyalty and
discipline are the ways in which the masses participate and collabo-
rate in the development of the cultural movement as a whole.)

The process of development is tied to a dialectic between the
intellectuals and the masses. The intellectual stratum develops both
quantitatively and qualitatively, but every leap forward towards a
new breadth and complexity of the intellectual stratum is tied to an
analogous movement on the part of the mass of the "simple", who
raise themselves to higher levels of culture and at the same time
extend their circle of influence towards the stratum of specialised
intellectuals, producing outstanding individuals and groups of

" The notion of the subservience of theory to practice, neatly summed up in
this adaptation of the mediaeval adage philosophia ancilla theologiae (philosophy the
handmaid of theology) has been widespread in the Marxist movement, in forms as
diverse as Stalin's formulation "theory must serve practice" (Works, Vol. VI,
p. 88) and Rosa Luxemburg's argument (in Stillstand und Fortschritt im Marxumts)
that theory only develops to the extent that the need for it is created by the
practice of the movement.

18 "elite." As is made clear later in the text, Gramsci uses this word (in French
in the original) in a sense very different from that of the reactionary post-
Pareto theorists of "political elites". The elite in Gramsci is the revolutionary van-
guard of a social class in constant contact with its political and intellectual base.
(But see also note 79. on p. 430.)

11 "dirigenti." See notes on Gramsci's terminology, p. xiii.

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335

greater or less importance. In the process, however, there continually
recur moments in which a gap develops between the mass and the
intellectuals (at any rate between some of them, or a group of them),
a loss of contact, and thus the impression that theory is an "acces-
sory", a "complement" and something subordinate. Insistence on
the practical element of the theory-practice nexus, after having not
only distinguished but separated and split the two elements (an
operation which in itself is merely mechanical and conventional),
means that one is going through a relatively primitive historical
phase, one which is still economic-corporate, in which the general
"structural" framework is being quantitatively transformed and the
appropriate quality-superstructure is in the process of emerging,
but is not yet organically formed. One should stress the importance
and significance which, in the modern world, political parties have
in the elaboration and diffusion of conceptions of the world, because
essentially what they do is to work out the ethics and the politics
corresponding to these conceptions and act as it were as their
historical "laboratory". The parties recruit individuals out of the
working mass, and the selection is made on practical and theoretical
criteria at the same time. The relation between theory and practice
becomes even closer the more the conception is vitally and radically
innovatory and opposed to old ways of thinking. For this reason
one can say that the parties are the elaborators of new integral and
totalitarian intelligentsias 20 and the crucibles where the unification
of theory and practice, understood as a real historical process, takes
place. It is clear from this that the parties should be formed by
individual memberships and not on the pattern of the British
Labour Party, because, if it is a question of providing an organic
leadership for the entire economically active mass, this leadership
should not follow old schemas but should innovate. But innovation
cannot come from the mass, at least at the beginning, except through
the mediation of an elite for whom the conception implicit in human
activity has already become to a certain degree a coherent and
systematic ever-present awareness and a precise and decisive
will.

One of these phases can be studied by looking at the recent
discussion in which the latest developments of the philosophy of
praxis are brought out, and which has been summarised in an

10 "intellettualitd totalitarie." It seems certain that intellettualitd here is a concrete
noun meaning "intelligentsia" rather than the abstract "intellectual conception".
"Totalitarian" is to be understood not in its modern sense, but as meaning
simultaneously "unified" and "all absorbing".

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article by D. S. Mirsky, a collaborator on La Cultura. 21 One can
see from this that a change has taken place from a mechanistic
and purely external conception to one which is activist and, as has
been pointed out, closer to a correct understanding of the unity of
theory and practice, although it has not yet attained the full
synthetic meaning of the concept. It should be noted how the
deterministic, fatalistic and mechanistic element has been a direct
ideological "aroma" emanating from the philosophy of praxis,
rather like religion or drugs (in their stupefying effect). It has been
made necessary and justified historically by the "subaltern" 23
character of certain social strata.

When you don't have the initiative in the struggle and the
struggle itself comes eventually to be identified with a series of
defeats, mechanical determinism becomes a tremendous force of
moral resistance, of cohesion and of patient and obstinate per-
severance. "I have been defeated for the moment, but the tide of
history is working for me in the long term." Real will takes on the
garments of an act of faith in a certain rationality of history and in
a primitive and empirical form of impassioned finalism 24 which
appears in the role of a substitute for the Predestination or Provi-
dence of confessional religions. It should be emphasised, though,
that a strong activity of the will is present even here, directly inter-
vening in the "force of circumstance", but only implicitly, and in
a veiled and, as it were, shamefaced manner. Consciousness here,
therefore, is contradictory and lacking critical unity, etc. But when
the "subaltern" becomes directive and responsible for the economic
activity of the masses, mechanicism at a certain point becomes an
imminent danger and a revision must take place in modes of
thinking because a change has taken place in the social mode of
existence. 25 The boundaries and the dominion of the "force of

11 The article referred to is probably D. S. Mirsky, Demokralie und Partei im
Bolschewismus, in Demokralie und Partei, ed. P. R. Rohden, Vienna, 1932. A different
article of Mirsky had appeared in La Cultura in 1931, and it is possible that Gramsci
refers to this magazine in order to quiet the suspicions of the censor, alerted by
the Russian name.

23 "subaltern." See note on Gramsci's terminology, p. xiii.

24 "finalism": the notion that history is always working towards a determined
end. The idea that Gramsci is attacking is that of historical inevitability, and in
particular of the "inevitable" spontaneous collapse of capitalism and its replace-
ment by the socialist order.

26 This is an echo of Marx's statement (Preface to A Contribution to the Critique
of Political Economy) that it is not consciousness which determines being but
man's social being which determines his consciousness. This conception is very
important to Gramsci and constantly recurs in his prison writings, as do other
ideas from the same Preface.

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337

circumstance" become restricted. But why? Because, basically, if
yesterday the subaltern element was a thing, today it is no longer
a thing but an historical person, a protagonist; if yesterday it was
not responsible, because "resisting" a will external to itself, now it
feels itself to be responsible because it is no longer resisting but an
agent, necessarily active and taking the initiative.

But even yesterday was it ever mere "resistance", a mere "thing",
mere "non-responsibility"? Certainly not. Indeed one should
emphasise how fatalism is nothing other than the clothing worn
by real and active will when in a weak position. This is why it is
essential at all times to demonstrate the futility of mechanical
determinism: for, although it is explicable as a naive philosophy of
the mass and as such, but only as such, can be an intrinsic element
of strength, nevertheless when it is adopted as a thought-out and
coherent philosophy on the part of the intellectuals, it becomes a
cause of passivity, of idiotic self-sufficiency. This happens when
they don't even expect that the subaltern will become directive and
responsible. In fact, however, some part of even a subaltern mass is
always directive and responsible, and the philosophy of the part
always precedes the philosophy of the whole, not only as its theo-
retical anticipation but as a necessity of real life.

That the mechanicist conception has been a religion of the subal-
tern is shown by an analysis of the development of the Christian
religion. Over a certain period of history in certain specific historical
conditions religion has been and continues to be a "necessity", a
necessary form taken by the will of the popular masses and a specific
way of rationalising the world and real life, which provided the
general framework for real practical activity. This quotation from
an article in La Civiltd Cattolica {Individualismo pagano e individualismo
cristiano: issue of 5 March 1932) seems to me to express very well
this function of Christianity :

"Faith in a secure future, in the immortality of the soul
destined to beatitude, in the certainty of arriving at eternal joy,
was the force behind the labour for intense interior perfection
and spiritual elevation. True Christian individualism found here
the impulse that led it to victory. All the strength of the Christian
was gathered around this noble end. Free from the flux of specula-
tion which weakens the soul with doubt, and illuminated by
immortal principles, man felt his hopes reborn; sure that a
superior force was supporting him in the struggle against Evil,
he did violence to himself and conquered the world."

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But here again it is na"ive Christianity that is being referred to:
not Jesuitised Christianity, which has become a pure narcotic for
the popular masses.

The position of Calvinism, however, with its iron conception of
predestination and grace, which produces a vast expansion of the
spirit of initiative (or becomes the form of this movement) is even
more revealing and significant.*

What are the infl uential factors in the process of diffusion (which
is also one of a substitution of the old conception, and, very often,
of combining old and new), how do they act, and to what extent?
Is it the rational form in which the new conception is expounded
and presented ? Or is it the authority (in so far as this is recognised
and appreciated, if only generically) of the expositor and the
thinkers and experts whom the expositor calls in in his support?
Or the fact of belonging to the same organisation as the man who
upholds the new conception (assuming, that is, that one has entered
the organisation for other reasons than that of already sharing the
new conception) ?

In reality these elements will vary according to social groups
and the cultural level of the groups in question. But the enquiry
has a particular interest in relation to the popular masses, who are
slower to change their conceptions, or who never change them in
the sense of accepting them in their "pure" form, but always and
only as a more or less heterogeneous and bizarre combination. The
rational and logically coherent form, the exhaustive reasoning
which neglects no argument, positive or negative, of any significance,
has a certain importance, but is far from being decisive. It can be
decisive, but in a secondary way, when the person in question is
already in a state of intellectual crisis, wavering between the old
and the new, when he has lost his faith in the old and has not yet
come down in favour of the new, etc.

One could say this about the authority of thinkers and experts:
it is very important among the people, but the fact remains that
every conception has its thinkers and experts to put forward, and
authority does not belong to one side; further, with every thinker

* On this question see: Max Weber, L'etka protestante e lo spirito del capitalismo;
published in Nuovi Studi, volume for 1931 et seq. [Die protestantische Ethik und da
Ceist des Capitalismus; first published in the Archiv fur So zialwissenschqft und Sozial-
politik, Vols. XX and XXI, 1904 and 1905. English translation (by Talcott
Parsons) The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism, London, Allen and Unwin,
1930.] And see Groethuysen's book on the religious origins of the bourgeoisie in
France. [Origines de I' esprit bourgeois en France, Vol. I. L'Eglise et la bourgeoisie,
Paris, 1927.]

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339

it is possible to make distinctions, to cast doubt on whether he
really said such and such a thing, etc.

One can conclude that the process of diffusion of new conceptions
takes place for political (that is, in the last analysis, social) reasons;
but that the formal element, that of logical coherence, the element
of authority and the organisational element have a very important
function in this process immediately after the general orientation
has been reached, whether by single individuals or groups of a
certain size. From this we must conclude, however, that in the
masses as such, philosophy can only be experienced as a faith.

Imagine the intellectual position of the man of the people: he
has formed his own opinions, convictions, criteria of discrimination,
standards of conduct. Anyone with a superior intellectual formation
with a point of view opposed to his can put forward arguments
better than he and really tear him to pieces logically and so on.
But should the man of the people change his opinions just because
of this ? Just because he cannot impose himself in a bout of argu-
ment? In that case he might find himself having to change every
day, or every time he meets an ideological adversary who is his
intellectual superior. On what elements, therefore, can his philo-
sophy be founded? and in particular his philosophy in the form
which has the greatest importance for his standards of conduct?

The most important element is undoubtedly one whose character
is determined not by reason but by faith. But faith in whom, or in
what? In particular in the social group to which he belongs, in
so far as in a diffuse way it thinks as he does. The man of the people
thinks that so many like-thinking people can't be wrong, not so
radically, as the man he is arguing against would like him to believe;
he thinks that, while he himself, admittedly, is not able to uphold
and develop his arguments as well as the opponent, in his group
there is someone who could do this and could certainly argue
better than the particular man he has against him; and he remem-
bers, indeed, hearing expounded, discursively, coherently, in a way
that left him convinced, the reasons behind his faith. He has no
concrete memory of the reasons and could not repeat them, but he
knows that reasons exist, because he has heard them expounded,
and was convinced by them. The fact of having once suddenly
seen the light and been convinced is the permanent reason for his
reasons persisting, even if the arguments in its favour cannot be
readily produced.

These considerations lead, however, to the conclusion that new
conceptions have an extremely unstable position among the popular

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masses; particularly when they are in contrast with orthodox con-
victions (which can themselves be new) conforming socially to the
general interests of the ruling classes. This can be seen if one con-
siders the fortunes of religions and churches. Religion, or a par-
ticular church, maintains its community of faithful (within the
limits imposed by the necessities of general historical development)
in so far as it nourishes its faith permanently and in an organised
fashion, indefatigably repeating its apologetics, struggling at all
times and always with the same kind of arguments, and maintaining
a hierarchy of intellectuals who give to the faith, in appearance at
least, the dignity of thought. Whenever the continuity of relations
between the Church and the faithful has been violently interrupted,
for political reasons, as happened during the French Revolution,
the losses suffered by the Church have been incalculable. If the
conditions had persisted for a long time in which it was difficult
to carry on practising one's own religion, it is quite possible that
these losses would have been definitive, and a new religion would
have emerged, as indeed one did emerge in France in combination
with the old Catholicism. Specific necessities can be deduced from
this for any cultural movement which aimed to replace common
sense and old conceptions of the world in general:

1. Never to tire of repeating its own arguments (though offering
literary variation of form) : repetition is the best didactic means
for working on the popular mentality.

2. To work incessantly to raise the intellectual level of ever-
growing strata of the populace, in other words, to give a personality
to the amorphous mass element. This means working to produce
Sites of intellectuals of a new type which arise directly out of the
masses, but remain in contact with them to become, as it were, the
whalebone in the corset. 26

This second necessity, if satisfied, is what really modifies the
"ideological panorama" of the age. But these elites cannot be
formed or developed without a hierarchy of authority and intel-
lectual competence growing up within them. The culmination of
this process can be a great individual philosopher. But he must
be capable of re-living concretely the demands of the massive
ideological community and of understanding that this cannot have
the flexibility of movement proper to an individual brain, and must
succeed in giving formal elaboration to the collective doctrine in

16 For Gramsci's theory of the "organic" intellectuals see the essay "The
Formation of the Intellectuals", pp. 5-14.

THE STUDY OF PHILOSOPHY 341

the most relevant fashion, and the one most suited to the modes
of thought of a collective thinker.

It is evident that this kind of mass creation cannot just happen
"arbitrarily", around any ideology, simply because of the formally
constructive will of a personality or a group which puts it foward
solely on the basis of its own fanatical philosophical or religious
convictions. Mass adhesion or non-adhesion to an ideology is the
real critical test of the rationality and historicity of modes of thinking.
Any arbitrary constructions are pretty rapidly eliminated by
historical competition, even if sometimes, through a combination
of immediately favourable circumstances, they manage to enjoy
popularity of a kind ; whereas constructions which respond to the
demands of a complex organic period of history always impose
themselves and prevail in the end, even though they may pass
through several intermediary phases during which they manage to
affirm themselves only in more or less bizarre and heterogeneous
combinations.

These developments pose many problems, the most important
of which can be subsumed in the form and the quality of the rela-
tions between the various intellectually qualified strata ; that is, the
importance and the function which the creative contribution of
superior groups must and can have in connection with the organic
capacity of the intellectually subordinate strata to discuss and
develop new critical concepts. It is a question, in other words, of
fixing the limits of freedom of discussion and propaganda, a freedom
which should not be conceived of in the administrative and police
sense, but in the sense of a self-limitation which the leaders impose
on their own activity, or, more strictly, in the sense of fixing the
direction of cultural policy. In other words — who is to fix the "rights
of knowledge" and the limits of the pursuit of knowledge? And
can these rights and limits indeed be fixed? It seems necessary to
leave the task of researching after new truths and better, more
coherent, clearer formulations of the truths themselves to the free
initiative of individual specialists, even though they may continually
question the very principles that seem most essential. And it will in
any case not be difficult to expose the fact whenever such proposals
for discussion arise because of interested and not scientific motives.
Nor is it inconceivable that individual initiatives should be dis-
ciplined and subject to an ordered procedure, so that they have to
pass through the sieve of academies or cultural institutes of various
kinds and only become public after undergoing a process of selection.

It would be interesting to study concretely the forms of cultural

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organisation which keep the ideological world in movement within
a given country, and to examine how they function in practice. A
study of the numerical relationship between the section of the
population professionally engaged in active cultural work in the
country in question and the population as a whole, would also be
useful, together with an approximate calculation of the unattached
forces. The school, at all levels, and the Church, are the biggest
cultural organisations in every country, in terms of the number of
people they employ. Then there are newspapers, magazines and
the book trade and private educational institutions, either those
which are complementary to the state system, or cultural institu-
tions like the Popular Universities. Other professions include
among their specialised activities a fair proportion of cultural
activity. For example, doctors, army officers, the legal profession.
But it should be noted that in all countries, though in differing
degrees, there is a great gap between the popular masses and the
intellectual groups, even the largest ones, and those nearest to the
peripheries of national life, like priests and school teachers. The
reason for this is that, however much the ruling class may affirm
to the contrary, the State, as such, does not have a unitary, coherent
and homogeneous conception, with the result that intellectual
groups are scattered between one stratum and the next, or even
within a single stratum. The Universities, except in a few countries,
do not exercise any unifying influence: often an independent thinker
has more influence than the whole of university institutions, etc.

With regard to the historical role played by the fatalistic con-
ception of the philosophy of praxis one might perhaps prepare its
funeral oration, emphasising its usefulness for a certain period of
history, but precisely for this reason underlining the need to bury
it with all due honours. Its role could really be compared with that
of the theory of predestination and grace for the beginnings of the
modern world, a theory which found its culmination in classical
German philosophy and in its conception of freedom as the con-
sciousness of necessity. 27 It has been a replacement in the popular
consciousness for the cry of " 'tis God's will", although even on
this primitive, elementary plane it was the beginnings of a more
modern and fertile conception than that contained in the expression
" 'tis God's will" or in the theory of grace. Is it possible that a
"formally" new conception can present itself in a guise other than
the crude, unsophisticated version of the populace ? And yet the

,7 "the consciousness of necessity." This notion, which originated with Spinoza,
plays a particularly important role in Hegelian philosophy.

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343

historian, with the benefit of all necessary perspective, manages to
establish and to understand the fact that the beginnings of a new
world, rough and jagged though they always are, are better than
the passing away of the world in its death-throes and the swan-song
that it produces.*

PROBLEMS OF PHILOSOPHY AND HISTORY
Scientific discussion

In the formulation of historico-critical problems it is wrong to
conceive of scientific discussion as a process at law in which there
is an accused and a public prosecutor whose professional duty it is
to demonstrate that the accused is guilty and has to be put out of

* The fading away of "fatalism" and "mechanicism" marks a great historical
turning-point: hence the great impression of Mirsky's resumed Memories that it
has raised: I remember in Florence in November 1917, a discussion with Mario
Trozzi, and the first mention of Bergsonism, voluntarism, etc. 26 One could make
a semi-serious sketch of how this conception presented itself in reality. I also
remember a discussion with Professor Presutti in Rome in June 1924. Comparison
with Capt. Giulietti made by G. M. Serrati, which was for him decisive and
conferred a death sentence. For Serrati, Giulietti was like the Confucian to the
Taoist, like the southern Chinese, the busy and active merchant, in the eyes of
the mandarin scholar from the North, who looks down with the supreme contempt
of the enlightened sage for whom life holds no more mysteries, on the southern
mannikins who hope, with their busy, ant-like movements to capture "the way".
Speech by Claudio Treves on expiation. This speech had something of the spirit
of an Old Testament prophet. Those who had wanted and had made the war,
who had torn the world from its hinges and were therefore responsible for post-war
disorder, had to expiate their sins and bear the responsibility for the disorder;
they were guilty of "voluntarism" and had to be punished for their sin, etc. There
was a certain priestly grandeur about this speech, a crescendo of maledictions
which should have petrified us with terror but were instead a great consolation,
because they showed that the undertaker was not yet ready and that Lazarus
could still rise again.

28 The meeting in question took place between various leaders and adherents
of the "intransigent" current of the Socialist Party on the night of 18 November
1917. It was mainly concerned with preparing a document criticising the reformist
wing of the Party for its attitude to the war. In the course of the discussion Trozzi
appears to have taken Gramsci to task for Bergsonian voluntarism. That Gramsci's
views at the time were decidedly unorthodox by the standards of the Second
International, is shown by his famous article saluting the Soviet revolution,
La Rivoluzione contro it 'Capitate', published in Avanti! a week after the meeting with
Trozzi and others, which was subsequently widely criticised for apparently
counterposing "Leninist" revolutionism to "Marxist" passivity and determinism.
Gramsci, in fact, as he makes clear here in the Quaderni, did not know Bergson's
writing at the time. Bergson had, however, influenced Sorel, who in turn had
influenced Gramsci in an early period. The result of Trozzi's charge was to lead
Gramsci to a re-examination and criticism of idealistic and Bergsonian influences
in Sorel's work.

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circulation. In scientific discussion, since it is assumed that the
purpose of discussion is the pursuit of truth and the progress of
science, the person who shows himself most "advanced" is the one
who takes up the point of view that his adversary may well be
expressing a need which should be incorporated, if only as a
subordinate aspect, in his own construction. To understand and
to evaluate realistically one's adversary's position and his reasons
(and sometimes one's adversary is the whole of past thought) means
precisely to be liberated from the prison of ideologies in the bad
sense of the word — that of blind ideological fanaticism. It means
taking up a point of view that is "critical", which for the purpose
of scientific research is the only fertile one.

Philosophy and History

Question of what should be understood by philosophy, or by
philosophy in a particular epoch, and of what is the importance
and the significance of philosophers' philosophy in each of these
historical epochs.

Accepting Croce's definition of religion as a conception of the
world which has become a norm of life 29 (since the term norm
of life is understood here not in a bookish sense but as being carried
out in practical life) it follows that the majority of mankind are
philosophers in so far as they engage in practical activity and in
their practical activity (or in their guiding lines of conduct) there
is implicitly contained a conception of the world, a philosophy.
The history of philosophy as it is generally understood, that is as
the history of philosophers' philosophies, is the history of attempts
made and ideological initiatives undertaken by a specific class of
people to change, correct or perfect the conceptions of the world
that exist in any particular age and thus to change the norms of
conduct that go with them; in other words, to change practical
activity as a whole.

From our point of view, studying the history and the logic of the
various philosophers' philosophies is not enough. At least as a
methodological guide-line, attention should be drawn to the other
parts of the history of philosophy; to the conceptions of the world
held by the great masses, to those of the most restricted ruling (or
intellectual) groups, and finally to the links between these various

" norma di vita. Croce's own word was "ethics" (etica), which Gramsci has
adapted to emphasise the connection between ethical standards and practical
life, implicitly denied in the Crocean system.

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345

cultural complexes and the philosophy of the philosophers. The
philosophy of an age is not the philosophy of this or that philosopher,
of this or that group of intellectuals, of this or that broad section
of the popular masses. It is a process of combination of all these
elements, which culminates in an overall trend, in which the
culmination becomes a norm of collective action and becomes
concrete and complete (integral) "history".

The philosophy of an historical epoch is, therefore, nothing other
than the "history" of that epoch itself, nothing other than the mass
of variations that the leading group has succeeded in imposing on
preceding reality. History and philosophy are in this sense indi-
visible: they form a bloc. But the philosophical elements proper
can be "distinguished", on all their various levels: as philosophers'
philosophy and the conceptions of the leading groups (philosophical
culture) and as the religions of the great masses. And it can be
seen how, at each of these levels, we are dealing with different
forms of ideological "combination".

"Creative" philosophy

What is philosophy? Is it a purely receptive or, at the very most,
ordering activity ? Or is it an absolutely creative activity? One must
first define what is meant by "receptive", "ordering" and
"creative". "Receptive" implies the certainty of an external world
which is absolutely immutable, which exists "in general", objectively
in the vulgar sense. "Ordering" is similar to "receptive". Although
it implies an activity of thought, this activity is limited and narrow.
But what does "creative" mean? Should it mean that the external
world is created by thought ? But what thought and whose ? There
is a danger of falling into solipsism, 30 and in fact every form of
idealism necessarily does fall into solipsism. To escape simultaneously
Scorn solipsism and from mechanicist conceptions implicit in the
concept of thought as a receptive and ordering activity, it is neces-
sary to put the question in an "historicist" fashion, and at the same
time to put the "will" (which in the last analysis equals practical
or political activity) at the base of philosophy. But it must be a
rational, not an arbitrary, will, which is realised in so far as it
corresponds to objective historical necessities, or in so far as it is
universal history itself in the moment of its progressive actualisation.
Should this will be represented at the beginning by a single indi-

80 Solipsism: the form of subjective idealism which maintains that the self is
the only object of knowledge.

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vidual, its rationality will be documented by the fact that it comes
to be accepted by the many, and accepted permanently: that is,
by becoming a culture, a form of "good sense", a conception of the
world with an ethic that conforms to its structure. Until classical
German philosophy, philosophy was conceived as a receptive, or
at the most an ordering activity, i.e. as knowledge of a mechanism
that functioned objectively outside man. Classical German philo-
sophy introduced the concept of "creativity" of thought, but in
an idealistic and speculative sense.

It seems that the philosophy of praxis alone has been able to
take philosophy a step forward, basing itself on classical German
philosophy but avoiding any tendency towards solipsism, and
historicising thought in that it assumes it in the form of a conception
of the world and of "good sense" diffused among the many (a
diffusion which precisely would be inconceivable without rationality
or historicity) and diffused in such a way as to convert itself into
an active norm of conduct. Creative, therefore, should be under-
stood in the "relative" sense, as thought which modifies the way
of feeling of the many and consequently reality itself, which cannot
be thought without this many. 31 Creative also in the sense that it
teaches that reality does not exist on its own, in and for itself, but
only in an historical relationship with the men who modify it, etc.

Historical Importance of a Philosophy

A great deal of research and study on the historical significance of
different philosophies is utterly sterile and fanciful because it fails
to take account of the fact that many philosophical systems are
exclusively, or almost exclusively, individual expressions and that
that part of them which can be called historical is often minimal
and swamped in a complex of abstractions whose origins are
purely and abstractly ratiocinative. One could say that the historical
value of a philosophy can be calculated from the "practical"
efBcacity it has acquired for itself, understanding "practical" in the
widest sense. If it is true that every philosophy is the expression of
a society, it should react back on that society and produce certain
effects, both positive and negative. The extent to which precisely it
reacts back is the measure of its historical importance, of its not
being individual "elucubration" but "historical fact".

n i.e. our capacity to think and act on the world is dependent on other people
who are themselves also both subjects and objects of history.

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347

The Philosopher

The principle must first be established that all men are "philo-
sophers", that is, that between the professional or "technical"
philosophers and the rest of mankind, the difference is not one of
"quality" but only of "quantity". (The term "quantity" is being
used here in a special sense, which is not to be confused with its
meaning in arithmetic, since what it indicates is greater or lesser
degrees of "homogeneity", "coherence", "logicality", etc.; in other
words, quantity of qualitative elements.) But having established this
it still remains to be seen exactly what the difference consists in.
Thus it would not be exact to call by the name of "philosophy"
every tendency of thought, every general orientation, etc., nor even
every "conception of the world and of life". The philosopher can be
called a "specialised worker" by comparison with the unskilled
labourer, but this isn't exact either, since in industry, in addition
to the labourer and the specialised worker there also exists the
engineer, who not only knows the trade from the practical angle,
but knows it theoretically and historically. The professional or
technical philosopher does not only "think" with greater logical
rigour, with greater coherence, with more systematic sense than do
other men, but he knows the entire history of thought. In other
words, he is capable of accounting for the development of thought
up to his own day and he is in a position where he can take up a
problem from the point which it has reached after having undergone
every previous attempt at a solution. He has the same function in
the field of thought that specialists have in their various scientific
fields.

However, there is a difference between the specialised philosopher
and other specialists, which is that the specialist philosopher is much
more similar to the rest of mankind than are other specialists. The
specialised philosopher has been represented as a figure similar
to the specialists of other branches of science and this has been
responsible for his caricatured image. There can be specialists in
entomology, without everybody else having to be an empirical
entomologist, or specialists in trigonometry without the majority of
people having to be concerned with trigonometry. One can find
extremely refined, extremely specialised sciences which are neces-
sary, but are not for that reason common. But it is not possible to
conceive of any man who is not also a philosopher, who doesn't
think, because thought is proper to man as such, or at least to any
man who is not a pathological cretin.

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"Language", Languages and Common Sense

In what exactly does the merit of what is normally termed "common
sense" or "good sense" consist ? Not just in the fact that, if only
implicitly, common sense applies the principle of causality, but in
the much more limited fact that in a whole range of judgments
common sense identifies the exact cause, simple and to hand, and
does not let itself be distracted by fancy quibbles and pseudo-
profound, pseudo-scientific metaphysical mumbo-jumbo. It was
natural that "common sense" should have been exalted in the
seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, when there was a reaction
against the principle of authority represented by Aristotle and the
Bible. It was discovered indeed that in "common sense" there was
a certain measure of "experimentalism" and direct observation of
reality, though empirical and limited. Even today, when a similar
state of affairs exists, we find the same favourable judgment on
common sense, although the situation has in fact changed and the
"common sense" of today has a much more limited intrinsic merit.

We have established that philosophy is a conception of the world
and that philosophical activity is not to be conceived solely as the
"individual" elaboration of systematically coherent concepts, but
also and above all as a cultural battle to transform the popular
' 'mentality" and to diffuse the philosophical innovations which will
demonstrate themselves to be "historically true" to the extent that
they become concretely — i.e. historically and socially — universal.
Given all this, the question of language in general and of languages
in the technical sense 32 must be put in the forefront of our enquiry.
What the pragmatists 33 wrote about this question merits re-
examination.*

,s The English word language does the work of two Italian words here : lingua
("languages in the technical sense"), meaning a particular system of verbal signs,
as it were the English or Italian language; and linguaggio ("language in general"),
in the generic sense of the faculty to transmit messages, verbal or otherwise, by
means of a common code. In modern linguistics (and Gramsci studied linguistics
at the very beginning of the modern period) lingua ("la langue") usually means
the code, and linguaggio ("le langage"), besides its generic sense, also refers to the
set of messages transmitted, i.e. the concretisation of the abstract rules of a lingua.

'* "pragmatists": adherents of the philosophical theory of pragmatism, which
originated in America and is connected with the names of William James and
C. S. Peirce. Pragmatism enjoyed a certain vogue in Italy as an off-shoot and
partial reaction against the positivist movement. Its most noteworthy exponent
was Giovanni Vailati (1863 1909), also a distinguished mathematician and
logician. The sociologist Pareto was also influenced by pragmatism.

* Cf. the Scritti [Writings] of G. Vailati (Florence, 191 1), among which the
essay II linguaggio come ostacolo alia eliminazione di contrasti illusori. [Language as
an obstacle to the elimination of illusory conflicts.]

THE STUDY OF PHILOSOPHY 349

In the case of the pragmatists, as generally with any attempt to
systematise philosophy in an organic fashion, it is not made clear
whether the reference is to the system in its entirety or just to its
essential nucleus. It seems to me safe to say that the conception
of language held by Vailati and other pragmatists is not acceptable.
But it also seems that they felt real needs and "described" them
with an exactness that was not far off the mark, even if they did
not succeed in posing the problems fully or in providing a solution.
It seems that one can say that "language" 3 * is essentially a collective
term which does not presuppose any single thing existing in time
and space. Language also means culture and philosophy (if only at
the level of common sense) and therefore the fact of "language"
is in reality a multiplicity of facts more or less organically coherent
and co-ordinated. At the limit it could be said that every speaking
being has a personal language of his own, that is his own particular
way of thinking and feeling. Culture, at its various levels, unifies
in a series of strata, to the extent that they come into contact with
each other, a greater or lesser number of individuals who under-
stand each other's mode of expression in differing degrees, etc. It
is these historico-social distinctions and differences which are
reflected in common language and produce those "obstacles" and
"sources of error" which the pragmatists have talked about.

From this one can deduce the importance of the "cultural
aspect", even in practical (collective) activity. An historical act can
only be performed by "collective man", and this presupposes the
attainment of a "cultural-social" unity through which a multiplicity
of dispersed wills, with heterogeneous aims, are welded together
with a single aim, on the basis of an equal and common conception
of the world, both general and particular, operating in transitory
bursts (in emotional ways) or permanently (where the intellectual
base is so well rooted, assimilated and experienced that it becomes
passion. 35 Since this is the way things happen, great importance is
assumed by the general question of language, that is, the question
of collectively attaining a single cultural "climate".

This problem can and must be related to the modern way of

34 linguaggio. See note 32 above.

35 "passion:" a Crocean term, denoting active as well as passive subjective
emotionality. Croce generally uses the term disparagingly, arguing for example
that politics is mere "passion", and not, as Gramsci was to maintain, the active
centre of human life. Gramsci tends to follow the Crocean usage and devotes a
lot of space to arguing (see, for example, pp. 138-40) that politics is precisely
not passion in the Crocean sense. Here, however, the word has an approving
sense of a strongly felt internalised commitment to an objective goal.

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considering educational doctrine and practice, according to which
the relationship between teacher and pupil is active and reciprocal
so that every teacher is always a pupil and every pupil a teacher. 8 '
But the educational relationship should not be restricted to the
field of the strictly "scholastic" relationships by means of which
the new generation comes into contact with the old and absorbs
its experiences and its historically necessary values and "matures"
and develops a personality of its own which is historically and
culturally superior. This form of relationship exists throughout
society as a whole and for every individual relative to other indi-
viduals. It exists between intellectual and non-intellectual sections
of the population, between the rulers and the ruled, elites and their
followers, leaders [dirigejiti] and led, the vanguard and the body of
the army. Every relationship of "hegemony" is necessarily an educa-
tional relationship and occurs not only within a nation, between
the various forces of which the nation is composed, but in the inter-
national and world-wide field, between complexes of national and
continental civilisations.

One could say therefore that the historical personality of an
individual philosopher is also given by the active relationship
which exists between him and the cultural environment he is
proposing to modify. The environment reacts back on the philo-
sopher and imposes on him a continual process of self-criticism. It
is his "teacher". This is why one of the most important demands
that the modern intelligentsias have made in the political field has
been that of the so-called "freedom of thought and of the expres-
sion of thought" ("freedom of the press", "freedom of association").
For the relationship between master and disciple in the general
sense referred to above is only realised where this political condition
exists, and only then do we get the "historical" realisation of a new
type of philosopher, whom we could call a "democratic philo-
sopher" in the sense that he is a philosopher convinced that his
personality is not limited to himself as a physical individual but is
an active social relationship of modification of the cultural environ-
ment. When the "thinker" is content with his own thought, when
he is "subjectively", that is abstractly, free, that is when he nowa-
days becomes a joke. The unity of science and life is precisely an
active unity, in which alone liberty of thought can be realised; it
is a master-pupil relationship, one between the philosopher and the

* This point is also made elsewhere by Gramsci, and further extended to
cover the whole relationship of man to his environment in the sense of Marx's
Theses on Feuerbach ("the educator must be educated.").

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351

cultural environment in which he has to work and from which he
can draw the necessary problems for formulation and resolution. In
other words, it is the relationship between philosophy and history.

What is Man?

This is the primary and principal question that philosophy asks.
How is it to be answered? The definition can be found in man
himself, that is, in each individual man. But is it correct? In every
individual man one can discover what every "individual man" is.
But we are not interested in what every individual man is, which
then comes to mean what every individual man is at every indi-
vidual moment. Reflecting on it, we can see that in putting the
question "what is man?" what we mean is: what can man become ?
That is, can man dominate his own destiny, can he "make himself",
can he create his own life? We maintain therefore that man is a
process, and, more exactly, the process of his actions. If you think
about it, the question itself "what is man ?" is not an abstract or
"objective" question. It is born of our reflection about ourselves
and about others, and we want to know, in relation to what we
have thought and seen, what we are and what we can become;
whether we really are, and if so to what extent, "makers of our
own selves", of our life and of our destiny. And we want to know
this "today", in the given conditions of today, the conditions of
our daily life, not of any life or any man.

The question is born and receives its content from special, that is,
specific ways of considering life and man. The most important of
these is religion, and a specific religion, which is Catholicism. In
reality, when we ask ourselves "what is man ?", what importance
do his will and his concrete activity have in creating himself and
the life he lives? what we mean is: is Catholicism a correct con-
ception of the world and of life? As Catholics, making Catholicism
a norm of life, are we making a mistake or are we right? Everyone
has a vague intuitive feeling that when they make Catholicism a
norm of life they are making a mistake, to such an extent that
nobody attaches himself to Catholicism as a norm of life, even
when calling himself a Catholic. An integral Catholic, one, that is,
who applied the Catholic norms in every act of his life, would seem
a monster. Which, when you come to think about it, is the severest
and most peremptory criticism of Catholicism itself.

Catholics would say that no other conception is followed
punctiliously either, and they would be right. But all this shows is

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that there does not exist, historically, a way of seeing things and
of acting which is equal for all men, no more no less. It is not a
reason in favour of Catholicism, although for centuries the Catholic
way of seeing things and of acting has been organised around this
very end, which has not been the case with any other religion
possessed of the same means, of the same systematic spirit, of the
same continuity and centralisation. From the "philosophical" point
of view, what is unsatisfactory in Catholicism is the fact that, in
spite of everything, it insists on putting the cause of evil in the
individual man himself, or in other words that it conceives of man
as a denned and limited individual. It could be said of all hitherto
existing philosophies that they reproduce this position of Catho-
licism, that they conceive of man as an individual limited to his
own individuality and of the spirit as being this individuality. It
is on this point that it is necessary to reform the concept of man.
I mean that one must conceive of man as a series of active relation-
ships (a process) in which individuality, though perhaps the most
important, is not, however, the only element to be taken into
account. The humanity which is reflected in each individuality is
composed of various elements: i. the individual; 2. other men;
3. the natural world. But the latter two elements are not as simple as
they might appear. The individual does not enter into relations with
other men by juxtaposition, but organically, in as much, that is, as he
belongs to organic entities which range from the simplest to the most
complex. Thus Man does not enter into relations with the natural
world just by being himself part of the natural world, but actively,
by means of work and technique. Further: these relations are not
mechanical. They are active and conscious. They correspond to
the greater or lesser degree of understanding that each man has
of them. So one could say that each one of us changes himself,
modifies himself to the extent that he changes and modifies the
complex relations of which he is the hub. In this sense the real
philosopher is, and cannot be other than, the politician, the active
man who modifies the environment, understanding by environment
the ensemble of relations which each of us enters to take part in.
If one's own individuality is the ensemble of these relations, 37 to
create one's personality means to acquire consciousness of them and
to modify one's own personality means to modify the ensemble of
these relations.

37 Cf. the sixth of Marx's Theses on Feuerbach: "The human essence is no
abstraction inherent in each single individual. In its reality it is the ensemble of
social relations. . . ."

THE STUDY OF PHILOSOPHY 353

But these relations, as we have said, are not simple. Some are
necessary, others are voluntary. Further, to be conscious of them,
to whatever degree of profundity (that is, to know, in varying
degrees, how to modify them) already modifies them. Even the
necessary relations, in so far as they are known to be necessary,
take on a different aspect and importance. In this sense, knowledge
is power. But the problem is complex in another way as well. It is
not enough to know the ensemble of relations as they exist at any
given time as a given system. They must be known genetically, in
the movement of their formation. For each individual is the synthesis
not only of existing relations, but of the history of these relations.
He is a precis of all the past. It will be said that what each individual
can change is very little, considering his strength. This is true up to
a point. But when the individual can associate himself with all the
other individuals who want the same changes, and if the changes
wanted are rational, the individual can be multiplied an impressive
number of times and can obtain a change which is far more radical
than at first sight ever seemed possible.

The "societies" in which a single individual can take part are
very numerous, more than would appear. It is through these
"societies" that the individual belongs to the human race. Thus
the ways in which the single individual enters into relation with
nature are many and complex, since by technique one should
understand not only the ensemble of scientific ideas applied indus-
trially (which is the normal meaning of the word) but also the
"mental" instruments, philosophical knowledge.

That man cannot be conceived other than as living in society
is a commonplace. 38 But not all the necessary consequences have
been drawn from this, even on an individual level. That a specific
human society presupposes a specific "society of things", and that
human society is possible only in so far as there exists a specific
society of things, is also a commonplace. It is true that up to now
the significance attributed to these supra-individual organisms
(both the societas hominum and the societas rerum) 39 has been mechanistic
and determinist: hence the reaction against it. It is necessary to
elaborate a doctrine in which these relations are seen as active and
in movement, establishing quite clearly that the source of this

19 This notion derives from Aristotle's "Man is a political animal", taken up
in scholastic philosophy and again in the Renaissance, and perhaps more deeply
engrained in Italian philosophical culture than in that of any other country.

" The society of men and the society of things: i.e. the human and natural
worlds.

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activity is the consciousness of the individual man who knows,
wishes, admires, creates (in so far as he does know, wish, admire,
create, etc.) and conceives of himself not as isolated but rich in
the possibilities offered him by other men and by the society of
things of which he cannot help having a certain knowledge. Just as
every man is a philosopher, every man is a man of science (etc.).

Taken in itself, Feuerbach's assertion "Man is what he eats" 4 "
can be interpreted in various ways. Crude and stupid interpreta-
tion: man is at any time what he eats materially, i.e. food has an
immediate and determining influence on the way of thinking.
Recall Amadeo [Bordiga]'s remark to the effect that if one knew
what a man had eaten before making a speech, for example, one
would be in a better position to interpret the speech itself. A
childish remark, and not even in conformity with positive scientific
data, because the brain is not nourished on beans and truffles but
rather the food manages to reconstitute the molecules of the brain
once it has been turned into homogeneous and assimilable sub-
stances, which have potentially the "same nature", as the molecules
of the brain. If this assertion were true, then the determining matrix
of history would be the kitchen and revolutions would coincide
with radical changes in the diet of the masses. Historically the
contrary is true. It is revolutions and the complex development of
history which have modified diet and created the successive "tastes"
in the choice of food. It wasn't the regular sowing of wheat that
brought nomadism to an end, but vice versa. The emergence of
conditions hostile to nomadism provided an impetus to regular
sowing.*

On the other hand it is also true that "man is what he eats",
in so far as diet is one of the expressions of social relations taken
as a whole, and every social group has its own basic form of diet.
But one might equally well say that "man is his clothing", "man
is his housing" or "man is his particular way of reproducing
himself, that is, his family". For, together with diet, housing,
clothing and reproduction are among the elements of social life

40 The original German is in the form of a pun, "der Mensch ist [is] ma; er
isst [eats]". Gramsci's hostility to philosophical materialism of the Feuerbachian
non-dialectical type involves him here also in some superficial point-scoring
against Bordiga.

* Compare Feuerbach's assertion with Marinetti's campaign against spaghetti
and Bontempelli's polemical defence of it, all in 1930 at the height of the world
crisis. 41

41 F. T. Marinetti, futurist poet and propagandist, and author of a curious
work on gastronomy entitled La Cucina Futurista, attributed the degeneration of
Italy to the Germanic importation of noodles in the Middle Ages.

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355

in which social relations as a whole are manifested in the most
evident and widespread (i.e. mass) fashion.

The problem of what is man is always therefore the so-called
problem of "human nature" or that of so-called "man in general".
It is thus an attempt to create a science of man (a philosophy)
which starts from an initially "unitary" 42 concept, from an abstrac-
tion in which everything that is "human" can be contained. But is
the "human" a starting-point or a point of arrival, as a concept
and as a unitary fact ? Or might not the whole attempt, in so far as
it posits the human as a starting-point, be a "theological" or
"metaphysical" residue? Philosophy cannot be reduced to a
naturalistic "anthropology": the nature of the human species is
not given by the "biological" nature of man.

The differences in man which count in history are not the
biological — race, shape of the cranium, colour of skin, etc. (For it
is to these that the affirmation "man is what he eats" can be
reduced — he eats wheat in Europe, rice in Asia, etc. — and it could
indeed be further reduced to the affirmation "man is the country
where he lives", since most of diet is in general connected with the
land inhabited.) Nor has "biological unity" ever counted for very
much in history: man is the animal which has eaten himself pre-
cisely when he was nearest to the "state of nature" and when he
could not artificially multiply the production of natural goods. Nor
yet have the "faculty of reason" or "the mind" created unity, and
they cannot be recognised as a "unitary" fact as they represent a
purely formal and categorical concept. 43 It is not "thought" but what
people really think that unites or differentiates mankind.

That "human nature" is the "complex of social relations" 4 * is
the most satisfactory answer, because it includes the idea of
becoming (man "becomes", he changes continuously with the
changing of social relations) and because it denies "man in general".
Indeed social relations are expressed by various groups of men
which each presuppose the others and whose unity is dialectical,
not formal. Man is aristocratic in so far as man is a serf, etc. 46
One could also say that the nature of man is "history" (and, in
this sense, given history as equal to spirit, that the nature of man
is spirit if one gives to history precisely this significance of

42 "unitary": in the sense of establishing a concrete principle of unity.

43 "categorical": i.e. non-historical and non-dialectical.
41 See note 37 on p. 352.

48 servo della gleba. The concept here is that of the unity of opposites. Aristocracy
by definition presupposes the existence of another class, the serfs, in relation to
which it acquires its particular defining characteristics.

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"becoming" which takes place in a "concordia discors" [discordant
concord] which does not start from unity, but contains in itself
the reasons for a possible unity. For this reason "human nature"
cannot be located in any particular man but in the entire history
of the human species (and the fact that we use the word "species",
which is a naturalistic word, is itself significant) 46 while in each
single individual there are to be found characteristics which are
put in relief by being in contradiction with the characteristics of
others. Both the conception of "spirit" found in traditional philo-
sophy and that of "human nature" found in biology should be
explained as "scientific Utopias" which took the place of the greater
Utopia of a human nature to be sought for in God (and in men
as sons of God) and they serve to indicate the continual travail of
history, an aspiration of a rational and sentimental kind, etc. It is
also true that both the religions which affirm the quality of man
as the sons of God and the philosophies which affirm the equality
of man as participants in the faculty of reason have been expressions
of complex revolutionary movements (respectively the transforma-
tion of the classical world and the transformation of the medieval
world) which laid the most powerful links of the chain of historical
development.

The idea that the Hegelian dialectic has been the last reflection
of these great historical nexuses, and that the dialectic, from being
the expression of social contradictions, should become, with the
disappearance of these contradictions, a pure conceptual dialectic,
would appear to be at the root of those recent philosophies, like that
of Croce, which have a utopistic basis.

In history real "equality", that is the degree of "spirituality"
reached by the historical process of "human nature" is to be
identified in the system of "private and public" "explicit and
implicit" associations whose threads are knotted together in the
"State" and in the world political system. We are dealing here
with "equalities" experienced as such between the members of an
association, and "inequalities" experienced between one association
and another. These are equalities and inequalities which are valid
in so far as people, individually or as a group, are conscious of
them. In this way we arrive also at the equality of, or equation
between, "philosophy and politics", thought and action, that is,

** Naturalistic in the sense of derived from natural history. Gramsci in fact
uses the phrase "genere umano", but we have preferred to translate "species" in
accordance with normal English usage, and also with Feuerbach, whose conception
of'die Gattung", normally translated "species", is here being criticised.

THE STUDY OF PHILOSOPHY

357

at a philosophy of praxis. Everything is political, even philosophy or
philosophies (cf. the notes on the character of ideologies) 47 and the
only "philosophy" is history in action, that is, life itself. It is in
this sense that one can interpret the thesis of the German proletariat
as the heir of classical German philosophy — and one can affirm
that the theorisation and realisation of hegemony carried out by
Ilich [Lenin] was also a great "metaphysical" event.

Progress and Becoming

Are these two different things or different aspects of one and the
same concept? Progress is an ideology: becoming is a philosophical
conception. "Progress" depends on a specific mentality, in the
constitution of which are involved certain historically determined
cultural elements: "becoming" is a philosophical concept from
which "progress" can be absent. In the idea of progress is implied
the possibility of quantitative and qualitative measuring, of "more"
and "better". A "fixed", or fixable, yardstick must therefore be
supposed, but this yardstick is given by the past, by a certain phase
of the past or by certain measurable aspects, etc. (Not that one
should think of a metric system of progress.)

How was the idea of progress born? Does its birth represent a
fundamental and epoch-making cultural event? It seems that it
does. The birth and the development of the idea of progress corre-
spond to a widespread consciousness that a certain relationship
has been reached between society and nature (including in the
concept of nature those of chance and "irrationality") such that as
a result mankind as a whole is more sure of its future and can con-
ceive "rationally" of plans through which to govern its entire
life. In order to combat the idea of progress, Leopardi 48 had to
have recourse to volcanic eruptions, that is to those natural pheno-
mena which are still irresistible and irremediable. But in the past
there were far more irresistible forces, famines, epidemics, etc.,
which, within certain limits, have now been overcome.

There can be no doubt that progress has been a democratic
ideology. Nor is there any doubt that it has had a political function
in the formation of modern constitutional states, etc. It is also
certain that it is no longer at its zenith. But in what sense is this

47 See in particular "The Concept of Ideology" on pp. 375 377.

*• Giacomo Leopardi (1798 1837). The reference is to his great poem La
Ginestra, written in 1836, in which he derides the optimism of progress {"le
magnifiche sorti e progressive") and counterposes the advance of civilisation to the
threat of an eruption of Vesuvius.

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the case ? Not in the sense that the faith in the possibility of rationally
dominating nature and chance has been lost, but in the sense that
it is "democratic". In other words, the official "standard bearers"
of progress have become incapable of this domination, because they
have brought into being in the present destructive forces like crises
and unemployment, etc., every bit as dangerous and terrifying as
those of the past. (The past forces meanwhile have now been
"socially" forgotten, though not by all elements of society: the
peasants continue not to understand "progress"; they think of
themselves as being, and still are all too much, in the hands of
natural forces and of chance, and therefore retain a "magical",
mediaeval and religious mentality.) The crisis of the idea of progress
is not therefore a crisis of the idea itself, but a crisis of the standard
bearers of the idea, who have in turn become a part of "nature"
to be dominated. In this situation attacks on the idea of progress
are very tendentious and interest-motivated.

Can the idea of progress be kept apart from that of becoming?
It would appear not. They were born at the same time, as politics
(France) and as philosophy (in Germany: subsequently developed
in Italy). In the idea of "becoming" there has been an attempt
to save the most concrete aspect of "progress" — movement, and
indeed dialectical movement. This also represents a development
in depth, since progress tends to be linked with the vulgar notion
of evolution.

From a little article by Aldo Capasso in Ultalia letteraria of
4 December 1932, 1 quote one or two extracts which present common
doubts on these problems:

"Even here a derisive attitude is common towards the humani-
tarian and democratic optimism of a nineteenth-century type,
and Leopardi is not alone when he talks of 'progressive lot'. 49
But an astute disguise has been devised for 'progress' in the
form of the idealistic 'becoming', an idea which will remain
in history, in our opinion, more as Italian than as German. But
what sense can there be in a becoming that is pursued ad infinitum,
an improvement which can never be compared to a physical
good? In the absence of a criterion of a 'final' stable step,
the unity of measurement of this 'improvement' also lacking.
Furthermore, we cannot even reach the point of luxuriating in
the confidence of being — we real living men — better than, say,

See preceding note.

THE STUDY OF PHILOSOPHY

359

the Romans or the early Christians, because, with improvement
being understood in a purely ideal sense, it is quite possible for
us all to be 'decadent', whereas in those days they could almost
all have been complete men or even saints. So that, from an
ethical point of view, the idea of an ascent ad infinitum which is
implicit in the concept of Becoming remains to a certain degree
unjustifiable, given that ethical 'improvement' is an individual
fact and that on the individual plane it is quite possible to con-
clude, proceeding from individual case to individual case, that
the whole latter epoch is worse . . . And then the optimistic
concept of becoming proves as elusive on the ideal as on the real
plane. . . It is well known that Croce denied any value as a
thinker to Leopardi, maintaining that pessimism and optimism
are sentimental and not philosophical attitudes. But the pessimist
could observe that, for its part, the idealist conception of Becoming
is a matter of optimism and sentiment, since pessimism and
optimism (if not animated by any faith in the Transcendent)
conceive of History in the same way: as the flow of a river that
has no mouth and then they place the emphasis either on the
word 'river' or on the words 'that has no mouth' according to
their state of mind. One side says: there is no mouth, but, as in
a harmonious river, there is the continuity of the waves and the
survival, in a developed form, of yesterday in today . . . And
on the other side: there is the continuity of a river, but there is
no river mouth ... In brief, let us not forget that optimism is
sentiment, no less than pessimism. It remains the fact that every
philosophy cannot but form its attitudes sentimentally, 'as
pessimism or as optimism', etc."

Capasso's thought is not very coherent, but his way of thinking is
expressive of a widespread state of mind, very snobbish and unsure,
very disconnected and superficial and often without much intel-
lectual honesty and loyalty and without the necessary formally
logical character.

The question is still the same: what is man? what is human
nature? If man is defined as an individual, psychologically and
speculatively, these problems of progress and becoming are insoluble
or remain purely verbal. But if man is conceived as the ensemble of
social relations, it then appears that every comparison between men,
over time, is impossible, because one is dealing with different, if
not heterogenous, objects. Moreover, since man is also the ensemble
of his conditions of life, one can provide a quantitative measurement

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of the difference between past and present, since one can measure
the extent to which man dominates nature and chance. Possibility
is not reality: but it is in itself a reality. Whether a man can or
cannot do a thing has its importance in evaluating what is done in
reality. Possibility means "freedom". The measure of freedom
enters into the concept of man. That the objective possibilities exist
for people not to die of hunger and that people do die of hunger,
has its importance, or so one would have thought. But the existence
of objective conditions, of possibilities or of freedom is not yet
enough: it is necessary to "know" them, and know how to use them.
And to want to use them. Man, in this sense, is concrete will, that
is, the effective application of the abstract will or vital impulse 50 to
the concrete means which realise such a will. Men create their own
personality, i. by giving a specific and concrete ("rational")
direction to their own vital impulse or will; 2. by identifying the
means which will make this will concrete and specific and not
arbitrary; 3. by contributing to modify the ensemble of the concrete
conditions for realising this will to the extent of one's own limits
and capacities and in the most fruitful form. Man is to be con-
ceived as an historical bloc of purely individual and subjective
elements and of mass and objective or material elements with
which the individual is in an active relationship. To transform the
external world, the general system of relations, is to potentiate
oneself and to develop oneself. That ethical "improvement" is
purely individual is an illusion and an error: the synthesis of the
elements constituting individuality is "individual", but it cannot be
realised and developed without an activity directed outward,
modifying external relations both with nature and, in varying
degrees, with other men, in the various social circles in which one
lives, up to the greatest relationship of all, which embraces the
whole human species. For this reason one can say that man is
essentially "political" since it is through the activity of transforming
and consciously directing other men that man realises his
"humanity", his "human nature".

•° The conceptual vocabulary here is drawn in part from Bergson, introduced
in order to fill a gap felt by Gramsci to exist 'in traditional Marxist theories of
social and individual praxis. More than anything else it is these importations from
non-Marxist philosophies that have caused Gramsci to be taxed with idealism by
more "orthodox" Marxists. It should, however, be noted that in an earlier passage
Gramsci defines "will" in a very non-Bergsonian sense as equalling, in the last
analysis, practical or political activity, and in general he does not hesitate con-
sciously to use words from an earlier philosophical tradition while endowing them
with a new content determined by their context within a Marxist discourse. (See
below, "Questions of Nomenclature and Content", pp. 452 ff.

THE STUDY OF PHILOSOPHY

36l

Individualism

On the question of so-called "individualism", that is the attitude
that every historical period has adopted towards the position of the
individual in the world and in historical life : what is today called
"individualism" had its origins in the cultural revolution that came
after the Middle Ages (Renaissance and Reformation) and indicates
a specific position adopted towards the problem of divinity and
therefore of the Church; it is the passage from transcendental
thought to immanentism. 51

Prejudices against individualism, taken to the point of
Jeremiads, rather than criticisms of Catholic and reactionary
thought; the form of "individualism" that today has become
anti-historical is that manifested in the individual appropriation of
wealth while the production of wealth has been progressively
socialised. That the Catholics are the least qualified to moan about
individualism can be deduced from the fact that, politically, they
have always recognised a political personality only in property,
implying in other words that man is not worthy for his own sake
but insofar as he is completed by material goods. What is the
meaning of the fact that people became electors though paying a
census tax and that one could belong to as many politico-admini-
strative communities as one possessed property in, if not a devalua-
tion of the "spirit" before "matter"? If only a man with possessions
is conceived of as "man", and if it has become impossible for all
to have possessions, why should it be anti-spiritual to look for a
form of property in which material forces complete and contribute
to the constitution of all personalities ? In reality, though, it was
implicitly admitted that human "nature" was not within the
individual but in the unity of man and material forces. Therefore,
the conquest of material forces is one way, and indeed the most
important, of conquest of personality.*

" i.e. to a form of thought which finds the principles governing the historical
world within the world itself, without recourse to any external philosophical
principle or motive force. Within the limits of this definition Gramsci sees
immanentism as a progressive development, while insisting that in its idealistic
formulation it is unacceptable and that it has value only when thoroughly
historicised and based on the concrete and material development of history.

* Recently a lot of praise has been showered on a book by the young French
Catholic writer Daniel Rops, Le Monde sans ame (Paris, Plon, 1932), also translated
in Italy. It is important to examine, in this connection, a whole series of concepts
through which, by a form of sophistry, positions of the past are revived as if they
had contemporary importance.

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Examination of the concept of human nature

Origins of the feeling of "equality": religion with its idea of
God-as-Father and Man-as-Sons and therefore equal: philosophy
according to the aphorism "Omnis enim philosophia, cum ad communem
hominum cogitandi facultatem revocet, per se democratica est; ideoque ab
optimatibus non iniuriasibi exstimatur perniciosa" . [For every philosophy,
since it refers to the common human faculty of thought, is demo-
cratic per se; therefore the aristocracy is not wrong in estimating it
pernicious to itself.] Biological science which affirms the "natural"
(psycho-physical) equality of all the individual elements of the
human "species"; everyone is born in the same way, etc.: Man is
mortal: John is a man: John is mortal. John equals all mankind.
Hence the empirical-scientific (folkloristic empirical science) origin
of the formula "we are all born naked".

Recall Chesterton's story in The Innocence of Father Brown 52, about
the postman and the little man who constructed prodigious
machines. In the story there is an observation of this type: "An old
lady lives in a castle with twenty servants. Another lady visits, and
she says to the visitor 'I am always so alone'. The doctor informs
here that the plague is spreading, that there is a danger of infec-
tion, etc., and then she says 'There are so many of us here'."
(Chesterton uses this as a basis simply for purely novelistic plot
effects.)

Philosophy and Democracy

One can observe the parallel evolution of modern democracy and
of specific forms of metaphysical materialism and idealism. Equality
is sought for by the French materialists of the eighteenth century
in the reduction of man to a category of natural history, an indi-
vidual of a biological species, distinguished not by social and
historical qualifications but by natural gifts, and in any case,
essentially equal to his kind. This conception has passed into

*■ In the story "The Invisible Man", where Father Brown, apropos the postman,
makes this observation: "Have you ever noticed this that people never answer
what you say? They answer what you mean or what they think you mean.
Suppose one lady says to another, in a country house, 'is anybody staying with
you?', the lady doesn't answer 'yes; the butler, the three footmen, the parlour-
maid and so on', though the parlourmaid may be in the room, or the butler
behind her chair. She says 'there is nobody staying with us', meaning nobody
of the sort you mean. But suppose a doctor enquiring into an epidemic asks 'who
is staying in the house?' then the lady will remember the butler, the parlourmaid
and the rest."

THE STUDY OF PHILOSOPHY 363

conventional common sense, where we rind the popular affirmation
"we are all born naked" (unless of course the commonsense affirma-
tion doesn't precede the ideological discussion of the intellectuals).
I n idealism we find the affirmation that philosophy is the democratic
science par excellence in so far as it refers to the reasoning faculty
common to all mankind — a fact which explains the hatred of the
aristocracy for philosophy and the legal prohibitions on teaching
and culture imposed by the classes of the ancien regime.

Quantity and quality

Since there cannot exist quantity without quality or quality with-
out quantity (economy without culture, practical activity without
the intelligence and vice versa) any opposition of the two terms is,
rationally, a nonsense. And, indeed, when we get the opposition of
quantity and quality with all the idiotic variations on the theme
practised by Guglielmo Ferrero and Co., what are really being
opposed are one form of quality and another form of quality, one
form of quantity and another form of quantity. In other words,
a matter of politics and not a philosophical proposition. If the
quantity-quality nexus is indivisible the question is posed thus:
where is it more useful to apply the force of one's will, to develop
quantity or quality? Which of the two aspects is more easily
controlled? Which is more easily measurable? On the basis of
which can one make predictions and construct work plans? The
answer appears to be in no doubt and to be the quantitative
aspect. But to affirm that one wants to work on quantity, that one
wants to develop the "bodily" aspect of reality does not mean that
one intends to neglect "quality" but rather that one intends to
pose the problem of quality in the most concrete and realistic form,
in other words, to develop quality in the only way in which this
development is controllable and measurable.

This question is connected with the other question expressed in
the proverb "Primum vivere deinde philosophari" [Live first and
philosophise afterwards]. In reality it is not possible to separate
living from philosophising, but nonetheless the proverb has a
practical meaning — living means concerning oneself in particular
with practical economic activity; philosophising means concerning
oneself with the intellectual activities of otium litteratum [learned
leisure]. However, there are people who just "live" and are forced
to undertake servile and exhausting labour without which others
would not have the chance to be exonerated from economic activity

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in order to philosophise. To back "quality" against quantity means
simply this: to maintain intact specific conditions of social life in
which some people are pure quantity and others quality. And how
pleasant it is to think of oneself as one of the licensed representatives
of quality, beauty, thought and the like. There is hardly a lady in
the fashionable world who doesn't imagine she is performing this
function of preserving quality and beauty upon earth !

Theory and practice

It is worth searching for, analysing and criticising the various forms
in which the concept of the unity of theory and practice has been
presented in the history of ideas, since it appears without doubt
that every conception of the world and every philosophy has been
concerned with this problem. Affirmation of Aquinas and Scholas-
ticism: "Intellectus speculative extensione fit practicus" (Theory by simple
extension becomes practice — in other words, the affirmation of the
necessary connection between the order of ideas and that of action).
Aphorism of Leibniz, so often repeated by the Italian idealists,
"Quo magis speculativa, magis practica" [The more speculative, the
more practical], in connection with science. The proposition of
G. B. Vico, "verum ipsum factum" [true is what is done], 63 so much
discussed and variously interpreted (see Croce's book on Vico and
other polemical writings by Croce himself) and which Croce
develops in the idealistic sense that knowledge is a form of doing
and that one knows that which one does. ("To do" here has a
particular meaning, so particular in fact that it finally means
nothing more than "to know" and the phrase resolves itself into a
tautology. This conception should, however, be considered in
relation to the conception held by the philosophy of praxis.)

Since every action is the result of various wills, with a varying
degree of intensity and awareness and of homogeneity with the
entire complex of the collective will, it is clear that also the theory
corresponding to it and implicit in it will be a combination of
beliefs and points of view which are equally disordered and
heterogeneous. However, in these terms and within these limits,

ss The principle of verum-factum is one of the cornerstones of Vico's theory of
knowledge. It is perhaps best understood not so much in the interpretation that
Gramsci attributes here to Croce that knowledge is a form of doing, as in its
inverse, that doing is a means of knowing. Contrary to the prevailing Cartesianism,
Vico maintained that only the object of human action ("factum") could be
truly known in that there was here an identity of subject and object absent in
our dealings with the world of natural science.

THE STUDY OF PHILOSOPHY

365

the adhesion of theory to practice exists. If the problem of the
identification of theory and practice is to be raised, it can be done
in this sense, that one can construct, on a specific practice, a theory
which, by coinciding and identifying itself with the decisive elements
of the practice itself, can accelerate the historical process that is
going on, rendering practice more homogeneous, more coherent,
more efficient in all its elements, and thus, in other words, develop-
ing its potential to the maximum : or alternatively, given a certain
theoretical position one can organise the practical element which
is essential for the theory to be realised. The identification of theory
and practice is a critical act, through which practice is demonstrated
rational and necessary, and theory realistic and rational. This is
why the problem of the identity of theory and practice is raised
especially in the so-called transitional moments of history, that is,
those moments in which the movement of transformation is at its
most rapid. For it is then that the practical forces unleashed really
demand justification in order to become more efficient and expan-
sive; and that theoretical programmes multiply in number, and
demand in their turn to be realistically justified, to the extent that
they prove themselves assimilable into practical movements, thereby
making the latter yet more practical and real.

Structure and Superstructure

The proposition contained in the "Preface to a Contribution to
the Critique of Political Economy" 54 to the effect that men acquire
consciousness of structural conflicts on the level of ideologies should
be considered as an affirmation of epistemological and not simply
psychological and moral value. From this, it follows that the
theoretical-practical principle of hegemony has also epistemological
significance, and it is here that Ilich [Lenin] 's greatest theoretical
contribution to the philosophy of praxis should be sought. In these
terms one could say that Ilich advanced philosophy as philosophy
in so far as he advanced political doctrine and practice. The
realisation of a hegemonic apparatus, in so far as it creates a new
ideological terrain, determines a reform of consciousness and of
methods of knowledge: it is a fact of knowledge, a philosophical

54 Cf. Marx, Preface to A Contribution to the Critique of Political Economy: "In
considering such [revolutionary] transformations a distinction should always be
made between the material transformation of the economic conditions of pro-
duction, which can be determined with the precision of natural science, and the
legal, political, religious, aesthetic or philosophic in short, ideological forms in
which men become conscious of this conflict and fight it out."

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fact. In Crocean terms: when one succeeds in introducing a new
morality in conformity with a new conception of the world, one
finishes by introducing the conception as well; in other words, one
determines a reform of the whole of philosophy.

Structures and superstructures form an "historical bloc". That is
to say the complex, contradictory and discordant ensemble of the
superstructures. is the reflection of the ensemble of the social relations
of production. From this, one can conclude : that only a totalitarian 65
system of ideologies gives a rational reflection of the contradiction
of the structure and represents the existence of the objective con-
ditions for the revolutionising of praxis. 56 If a social group is formed
which is one hundred per cent homogeneous on the level of ideology,
this means that the premisses exist one hundred per cent for this
revolutionising: that is that the "rational" is actively and actually
real. 57 This reasoning is based on the necessary reciprocity between
structure and superstructure, a reciprocity which is nothing other
than the real dialectical process.

The term "catharsis"

The term "catharsis" can be employed to indicate the passage
from the purely economic (or egoistic-passional) to the ethico-
political moment, 68 that is the superior elaboration of the structure
into superstructure in the minds of men. This also means the

86 totalitarian: in the sense, also on p. 335 (see note 20), of "unified" and
"all absorbing".

66 rovesciamento delta prassi. Syntactically this phrase is obscure, since it could
either mean "the revolutionising of praxis" or "the revolution through praxis". It
seems best to take it as an Italian rendering of Marx's phrase "umwalzende Praxis"
(revolutionising praxis) in the 3rd thesis on Feuerbach.

67 it reale i "razionale" attuosamente e attualmente. The notion that the rational
is real and the real is rational, whose interpretation is much disputed, derives
from Hegel's Philosophy of Right. Gramsci uses it here not as a general principle
but to describe a particular moment of unity of structure and superstructure and
of thought and action.

68 Terminology derived from the Crocean system, according to which the
categories of Logic and Ethics are "universal" elaborations of the "particular"
categories of Aesthetics and Economics. Gramsci occasionally makes instrumental
use of this classification, particularly as regards the passage from the particular
("economic" or "corporate") to the universal ("hegemonic"); but it should be
noted that for him Politics plays a far more important role than it did for Croce
and one which effectively subverts the system of Crocean categories for which
Politics is either down-graded to the level of individual passion or subsumed
under Ethics.

The highly original use here of the word "catharsis" to indicate (roughly
speaking) the acquisition of revolutionary consciousness was perhaps suggested
to Gramsci by his mental habit of selecting terminology unlikely to alert the
suspicions of the censor.

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367

passage from "objective to subjective" and from "necessity to
freedom". 59 Structure ceases to be an external force which crushes
man, assimilates him to itself and makes him passive; and is
transformed into a means of freedom, an instrument to create a
new ethico-political form and a source of new initiatives. To
establish the "cathartic" moment becomes therefore, it seems to
me, the starting-point for all the philosophy of praxis, and the
cathartic process coincides with the chain of syntheses which have
resulted from the evolution of the dialectic*

The Kantian "Noumenori"

The question of the "external objectivity of the real" 81 in so far
as it is connected with the concept of the "thing in itself" and of

" Gramsci's treatment of the notion of the passage from the realm of necessity
to the realm of freedom differs slightly from that of Marx. "Whereas Gramsci
develops the notion in terms of the free movement of thought untrammelled
either by tendentious ideology or by the need for thought to take as its basis
contradictions engendered in the world of material production, with the result
that the philosophy of a future communist society could well be a form of what
would now be regarded as idealism; Marx is more cautious, emphasising {Capital,
Vol. Ill, Chapter 48) that "the true realm of freedom . . . can blossom forth
only with this realm of necessity [the appropriation from nature of man's material
wants] as its basis".

* One must keep permanently in mind the two points between which this
process oscillates: that no society poses for itself problems the necessary and
sufficient conditions for whose solution do not already exist or are coming into
being; and that no society comes to an end before it has expressed all its potential
content. 60

60 A reference to Marx's Preface to A Contribution to the Critique of Political
Economy :

"No social order ever perishes before all the productive forces for which there
is room in it have been developed; and new, higher relations of production never
appear before the material conditions of their existence have matured in the
womb of the old society itself. Therefore mankind always sets itself only such
tasks as it can solve; since, looking at the matter more closely, it will always
be found that the task itself arises only when the material conditions for its solution
already exist or at at least in the process of formation."

61 The question of the external objectivity of the real is dealt with more speci-
fically, in relation to the distinction between mechanical and dialectical
materialism, in Gramsci's Critical Notes on Bukharin's Popular Manual (see below,
pp. 440- 448). Here Gramsci is concerned with a slightly different problem,
that of the Kantian "noumenon" or the "ding an sich" (i.e. the reality of things as
distinct from the "phenomenon" through which we nave knowledge of them).
Despite the obvious differences between "Grae co-Christian" philosophy (the
Aristotelian and Scholastic tradition) and Kantianism, Gramsci discerns in both
currents an underlying similarity their assumption that the whole of reality
is not contained within the phenomenal world alone. Even more remarkably, in
his attempt to establish the difference between the "philosophy of praxis" and
other philosophies, he assimilates much of positivist thought to the same trans-
cendentalist matrix.

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the Kantian "noumenon". It seems difficult to exclude the assump-
tion that the "thing in itself" is a derivation from the "external
objectivity of the real" and from so-called Graeco-Christian realism
(Aristotle, Aquinas). This derivation can also be seen in the fact
that an entire tendency of vulgar materialism and positivism has
given rise to the neo-Kantian and neo-critical school.

If reality is as we know it and if our knowledge changes con-
tinually — if, that is, no philosophy is definitive but all are historically
determined — it is hard to imagine that reality changes objectively
with changes in ourselves. Not only common sense but scientific
thought as well make this difficult to accept. In the Holy Family 6 *
it is said that the whole reality is in phenomena and that beyond
phenomena there is nothing, and this is certainly correct. But it
is not easy to demonstrate. What are phenomena? Are they some-
thing objective, existing in and for themselves, or are they qualities
which man has isolated in consequence of his practical interests (the
construction of his economic life) and his scientific interests (the
necessity to discover an order in the world and to describe and
classify things, a necessity which is itself connected to mediated and
future practical interests).

Accepting the affirmation that our knowledge of things is nothing
other than ourselves, our needs and interests, that is that our
knowledge is superstructure (or non-definitive philosophy), it is
difficult not to think in terms of something real beyond this know-
ledge — not in the metaphysical sense of a "noumenon", an
"unknown God" or an "unknowable", but in the concrete sense
of a "relative" ignorance of reality, of something still unknown,
which will however be known one day when the "physical" and
intellectual instruments of mankind are more perfect, when, that
is, the technical and social conditions of mankind have been
changed in a progressive direction. We are then making an historical
prediction which consists simply in an act of thought that projects
into the future a process of development similar to that which has
taken place from the past until today. In any case one should study
Kant and re-examine his concepts exactly.

42 Karl Marx and Frederick Engels, The Holy Family. We have not been able
to trace such a statement in the text. It would appear in any case to be a slight
distortion of the actual position of Marx and Engels. In Capital Marx clearly
distinguishes the reality of the content from the phenomenal form [Erscheimmgsform]
of things, while maintaining that this reality can only be derived from the phe-
nomena and can have no separate existence apart from them. It should be noted,
however, that Gramsci tends in general to underplay the element of "abstraction"
inherent in Marx's method, attributing it to simple "pedagogic" necessities.

THE STUDY OF PHILOSOPHY

369

History and Anti-History

It is worth observing that the present debate between "history and
anti-history" is nothing other than a repetition, in the language of
modem philosophical culture, of the debate that took place at the
end of the last century, in the language of naturalism and positivism,
about whether nature and history proceed by "leaps" or only by
gradual and progressive evolution. The same debate can be seen to
have been engaged in by earlier generations, whether in the field
of natural science (the doctrines of Cuvier) or in that of philosophy
(where it can be found in Hegel). The history of this problem
should be dealt with in all its concrete and significant manifesta-
tions. One would find that it has always been contemporary, since
at all times there have been conservatives and Jacobins, progressives
and reactionaries. But the "theoretical" significance of this debate
seems to me to consist in this: that it marks the "logical" point at
which every conception of the world makes the passage to the
morality appropriate to it, when contemplation becomes action and
every philosophy becomes the political action dependent on it. In
other words, it is the point at which the conception of the world,
contemplation, philosophy become "real", since they now aim to
modify the world and to revolutionise praxis. One could say there-
fore that this is the central nexus of the philosophy of praxis, the
point at which it becomes actual and lives historically (that is
socially and no longer just in the brains of individuals), when it
ceases to be arbitrary and becomes necessary — rational — real.

The problem is precisely that of seeing things historically. That
all those Nietzschean charlatans in verbal revolt against all that
exists, against conventionality, etc., should have ended up by
accepting it after all, and have thus made certain attitudes seem
quite unserious, may well be the case, but it is not necessary to let
oneself be guided in one's own judgments by charlatans. In opposi-
tion to fashionable titanism, to a taste for wishful thinking and
abstraction, one must draw attention to a need for "sobriety" in
words and in external attitudes, precisely so that there should be
more strength in one's character and concrete will. But this is a
question of style, not "theory".

The classical form of these passages from conception of the world
to practical norm of conduct seems to me to be that through which
out of Calvinist predestination there arose one of the greatest
impulses to practical initiative the world has ever known. Similarly,
every other form of determinism has at a certain point developed

370 GRAMSCi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

into a spirit of initiative and into an extreme tension of collective
will.

Speculative Philosophy

It would be wrong to conceal the difficulties presented by the
discussion and criticism of the "speculative" character of certain
philosophical systems and by the theoretical "negation" of the
"speculative form" of philosophical conceptions.

The following questions are raised: i . Is the "speculative" element
proper to every philosophy and is it the form itself which every
theoretical construction as such must assume? That is to say, is
"speculation" synonymous with philosophy and with theory? 2. Or
is the question to be put an "historical" one? Is the problem only
an historical, and not a theoretical one, in the sense that every
conception of the world, at a specific phase of its history, assumes a
"speculative" form which represents its apogee and the beginning
of its dissolution?

Analogy and connection with the development of the State,
which passes from the "economic-corporate" phase to the "hege-
monic" (that of active consent). One could say, that is, that every
culture has its speculative and religious moment, which coincides
with the period of complete hegemony of the social group of which
it is the expression and perhaps coincides exactly with the moment
in which the real hegemony disintegrates at the base, molecularly:
but precisely because of this disintegration, and to r eact against it,
the system of thought perfects itself as dogma and becomes a
transcendental "faith". For this reason one can observe that every
so-called decadent epoch (in which a disintegration of the old world
takes place) is characterised by a refined and highly "speculative"
form of thought.

Criticism however must resolve speculation into its real terms
as a political ideology and an instrument of practical action. But
the critique itself will have its own speculative phase, which marks
its apogee. The question is this: whether this apogee cannot be
thebeginning of an historical phase of a new type in which necessity
and freedom have organically interpenetrated and there will be no
more social contradictions, so that the only dialectic will be that
of the idea, a dialectic of concepts and no longer of historical forces.

The passage in the Holy Family* 3 on French materialism in the
eighteenth century describes quite well and quite clearly the genesis

« s Holy Family {cit.) VI, 3(d).

THE STUDY OF PHILOSOPHY

371

of the philosophy of praxis. It is "materialism" perfected by the
work of speculative philosophy itself and fused with humanism. It
is also true that with this perfecting of the old materialism there
remains only philosophical realism.

Another point worth meditating on is this: whether the concep-
tion of "spirit" in speculative philosophy is not a transformed and
updated version of the old concept of "human nature" which is
proper both to the philosophies of transcendence and to vulgar
materialism; whether that is, the conception of "spirit" is anything
other than the old "Holy Spirit" made speculative. If this is true,
one could then say that idealism is intrinsically theological.

Has not "speculation" (in the idealistic sense) introduced a new
type of transcendence into the reform of philosophy characterised
by immanentist conceptions? It seems as if the philosophy of praxis
is the only consistent "immanentist" conception. It is particularly
worth re-examining and criticising all historicist theories of a
speculative character. A new Anti-Diihring 6i could be written, which
from this point of view would be an "Anti-Croce", and which
brought together not only the polemic against speculative philo-
sophy but also that against positivism, mechanicism and degenerate
forms of the philosophy of praxis itself.

"Objectivity" of Knowledge

For Catholics ". . . the whole theory of idealism is based on the
denial of the objectivity of all our knowledge and on the idealistic
monism of 'spirit 5 (a monism which, as such, is equivalent to the
positivistic monism of 'matter'). In this conception, the very
foundation of religion, God, does not exist objectively outside of
ourselves, but is a creation of the intellect. Idealism, therefore, no
less than materialism, is radically contrary to religion."*

The question of the "objectivity of knowledge, according to the
philosophy of praxis, can be treated by starting from the proposition
contained in the Preface to A Contribution to the Critique of Political
Economy that "men become conscious (of the conflict between the
material forces of production) on the ideological level" of juridical,
political, religious, artistic and philosophical forms. 65 But is this

61 Anti-Diihring [Herrn Eugen Diihrings U mwalzung der Wissenschaft] : polemic by
Engels which also provides the most systematic exposition of the philosophy of
Marxism. For Gramsci's ideas on the need to contestin a similar way the philosophy
of Croce, see General Introduction.

* Cf. the article by Father Mario Barbera in La Civiltd Cattolica, 1 June 1929.

" See above, note 54 on p. 365.

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consciousness limited to the conflict between the material forces of
production and the relations of production — according to the
letter of the text — or does it refer to all conscious knowledge ? This
is the point to consider and which can be treated along with the
whole ensemble of the philosophical doctrine of the value of the
superstructures. In such a case, what will be the meaning of the
term "monism"? It will certainly not be idealistic or materialistic
monism, but rather the identity of contraries in the concrete
historical act, that is in human activity (history-spirit) in the con-
crete, indissolubly connected with a certain organised (historicised)
"matter" and with the transformed nature of man. Philosophy of
the act (praxis, development), but not of the "pure" act, 68 but
rather of the real "impure" act, in the most profane and worldly
sense of the word.

Pragmatism and Politics

It would seem that "pragmatism" (as in James, etc.) cannot be
criticised without taking account of the Anglo-Saxon historical
context in which it was born and developed. If it is true that every
philosophy is a "politics", and that every philosopher is essentially
a politician, this is doubly true for the pragmatist who constructs
philosophy in a way which is in an immediate sense "utilitarian".
Such a thing is unthinkable (as a movement) in Catholic countries,
where religion and cultural life have been split since the days of
the Renaissance and Counter-Reformation, whereas it is thinkable
in Anglo-Saxon countries, where religion is closely bound up with
everyday cultural life and is neither bureacratically centralised nor
intellectually dogmatised. In any case pragmatism escapes from the
positive religious sphere and tends to create a secular morality
(though not of the French type) ; it tends to create a "popular
philosophy" superior to common sense, and it is an immediate
"ideological party" 67 rather than a system of philosophy.

Take the pragmatist principle as expounded by James: "The
best way of discussing the various points of any theory is to start
by establishing what practical difference would result if one or

ae A reference to Gentile and to his Teoria dello Spirito come atto pun (Theory of
the Spirit as Pure Act. 1916) which exalts the "act" as such, unaccompanied by
any objective consciousness or self-reflection.

67 "ideological party": i.e. an ideological grouping or alignment, similar In
its organisation and function to a Party in the political sphere.

THE STUDY OF PHILOSOPHY

373

other of the alternatives were the true one." 68 One can see from
this the immediacy of the philosophical politicism of the pragmatists.
The "individual" philosopher of the Italian or German type is tied
to "practice" in a mediated way, and there are often many rings
on the chain of mediations. The pragmatist on the other hand
wishes to tie himself immediately to practice. It would appear,
however, that the Italian or German type of philosopher is more
"practical" than the pragmatist who judges from immediate reality,
often at the most vulgar level, in that the German or Italian has
a higher aim, sets his sights higher and tends (if he tends in any
direction) to raise the existing cultural level. Hegel can be con-
sidered as the theoretical precursor of the liberal revolutions of the
nineteenth century. The pragmatists, at the most, have contributed
to the creation of the Rotary Club movement and to the justification
of conservative and reactionary movements — and to their justifica-
tion in a real sense, and not just, as happened with Hegel and the
Prussian State, as a result of polemical distortion. 89

Ethics

Kant's maxim "Act in such a way that your conduct can become
a norm for all men in similar conditions" 70 is less simple and
obvious than it appears at first sight. What is meant by "similar
conditions"? The immediate conditions in which one is operating,
or the complex and organic general conditions, knowledge of which
requires long and critically elaborated research? (Foundation of
the Socratic ethic, in which the "moral" will has its base in the
intellect, in wisdom, so that wrong-doing is due to ignorance and
the search for critical knowledge is the basis of superior morality
or of morality tout court.)

88 For this principle Gramsci gives a reference to an Italian translation of
The Varieties of Religious Experience {Le vane forme dell' esperienza religiosa, translated
by G. C. Ferrari and M. Calderoni, 1904, p. 382). It would appear to be a summary
of James's exposition of Peirce ( The Varieties of Religious Experience, London and
New York, 1902, pp. 444-45)-

*' This distortion is particularly current in England, where it ha3 been
sanctified by the authority, amongst others, of Bertrand Russell. Marx himself
was more just, describing Hegel's Philosophy of Right as ". . . at once the critical
analysis of the modem state and of the reality connected with it, and the definitive
negation of all past forms of consciousness in German jurisprudence and politics".
Contribution to the Critique of Hegel's Philosophy of Right. In Karl Marx, Early Writings,
ed. Bottomore, p. 51.)

70 Kant's maxim is expressed, without the rider about "similar conditions"
as the categorical imperative : "Act only on that maxim whereby you can at the
same time will that it should become a universal law" (Fundamental Principles of
the Metaphysic of Morals,\Grundlegung\, standard edition, p. 47).

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Kant's maxim can be considered as a truism, since it is hard to
find anyone who does not act in the belief that in the conditions
he is in everyone else would act in the same way. A man who steals
for hunger maintains that hungry people steal; a man who kills
his unfaithful wife maintains that all betrayed husbands should
kill, etc. It is only "madmen" in the clinical sense who act without
believing themselves to be in the right. This question is connected
with others: i. Everyone is indulgent towards himself, because when
one acts in a "non-conformist" fashion one knows the mechanism
of one's own sensations and judgments and of the chain of cause
and effect which has led one to act as one did; but one is much
more severe with others because one does not know their inner
life. 2. Everyone acts according to his culture, that is the culture
of his environment, and as far as one is concerned "all men" means
one's environment, people who think like oneself. Kant's maxim
presupposes a single culture, a single religion, a "world-wide"
conformism.

The objection which would not seem right is this: that "similar
conditions" do not exist because among the conditions one must
include the agent, his individuality, etc. What one can say is that
Kant's maxim is connected with his time, with the cosmopolitan
enlightenment and the critical conception of the author. In brief,
it is linked to the philosophy of the intellectuals as a cosmopolitan
stratum. Therefore the agent is the bearer of the "similar conditions"
and indeed their creator. That is, he "must" act according to a
"model" which he would like to see diffused among all mankind,
according to a type of civilisation for whose coming he is working
or for whose preservation he is "resisting" the forces that threaten
its disintegration.

Scepticism

The common-sense objection that one can make against scepticism
is this: that to be consistent with himself the sceptic should do
nothing else but live like a vegetable, without involving himself in
the business of ordinary life. If the sceptic takes part in the debate,
it means that he thinks that he can convince people. That is, he is
no longer a sceptic, but represents a specific positive opinion, which
is usually bad and can triumph only by convincing the community
that other opinions are even worse, because useless. Scepticism is
connected with vulgar materialism and positivism. Interesting in

THE STUDY OF PHILOSOPHY

375

this connection is an excerpt from Roberto Ardigo, 71 in which he
says that one should admire Bergson for his voluntarism. But what
does this mean? Is it not a confession of the incapacity of one's
own philosophy to explain the world if one has to turn to an
opposite system in order to find the element necessary for practical
life ? This point of Ardigo's (contained in his Scritti Vari, collected
and arranged by G. Marchesini, Florence, Le Monnier, 1922)
should be confronted with Marx's theses on Feuerbach 72 and goes
to show precisely the extent to which Marx had got beyond the
philosophical position of vulgar materialism.

The Concept of "Ideology"

"Ideology" was an aspect of "sensationalism", i.e. eighteenth-
century French materialism. Its original meaning was that of
"science of ideas", and since analysis was the only method recog-
nised and applied by science it means "analysis of ideas", that is,
"investigation of the origin of ideas". Ideas had to be broken down
into their original "elements", and these could be nothing other
than "sensations". Ideas derived from sensations. But sensationalism
could be associated, without too much difficulty, with religious
faith and with the most extreme beliefs in the "power of the Spirit"
and its "immortal destinies", so that Manzoni, 73 even after his
conversion and return to Catholicism, even at the time when he
wrote the Inni sacri, continued to adhere in principle to the theory of
sensationalism, until he learnt about the philosophy of Rosmini.*

71 Roberto Ardigo (1828-1920), leading Italian positivist philosopher.

72 See in particular the first five of the Theses, in which Marx criticises Feuerbach
for epistemologically separating theory from practice, contemplation from
action, etc.

73 Alessandro Manzoni (1 785-1873), Italian novelist and poet, brought up
on the ideas of the French and Italian Enlightenment but converted to Catholicism
in or about 1810. His major work is the historical novel I frames si sposi (The
Betrothed) (1827: revised and pardy rewritten 1840) in which Enlightenment
ideas co-exist uneasily with Catholic Quietism. The Irmi sacri (Sacred Hymns,
or Songs) date from 1812-22.

* The most effective literary propagator of ideology was Destutt de Tracy
(1754-1836), because of the ease and popularity of his exposition. Another was
Dr. Cabanis with his Rapport du Physique et du Moral. (Condillac, Helvetius, etc.,
are more strictly speaking philosophers.) Link between Catholicism and ideology :
Manzoni, Cabanis, Bourget, Taine (Taine is the chef d'e'cole for Maurras and others
of a Catholic tendency) ; also the "psychological novel" (Stendhal was a pupil
of De Tracy, etc.). Destutt de Tracy's main work is the Elements d'ldiologie (Paris,
1817-18). The Italian translation is more complete [Elementi di ldeologia del Conte
Destutt de Tracy, translated by G. Compagnoni, Milan, Stamperia di Giambattista
Sonzogno, 1819). In the French text a whole section is missing, I think the one
on Love, which Stendhal knew and used from the Italian translation.

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How the concept of Ideology passed from meaning "science of
ideas" and "analysis of the origin of ideas" to meaning a specific
"system of ideas" needs to be examined historically. In purely
logical terms the process is easy to grasp and understand.

It could be asserted that Freud is the last of the Ideologues,
and that De Man is also an "ideologue". This makes the "enthu-
siasm" of Croce and the Croceans for De Man even more curious —
or would if there wasn't a "practical" justification for their
enthusiasm. 74 One should examine the way in which the author of
the Popular Manual [Bukharin] 75 has remained trapped in Ideology;
whereas the philosophy of praxis represents a distinct advance and
historically is precisely in opposition to Ideology. Indeed the
meaning which the term "ideology" has assumed in Marxist
philosophy implicitly contains a negative value judgment and
excludes the possibility that for its founders the origin of ideas
should be sought for in sensations, and therefore, in the last analysis,
in physiology. "Ideology" itself must be analysed historically, in
the terms of the philosophy of praxis, as a superstructure.

It seems to me that there is a potential element of error in
assessing the value of ideologies, due to the fact (by no means
casual) that the name ideology is given both to the necessary super-
structure of a particular structure and to the arbitrary elucubra-
tions of particular individuals. The bad sense of the word has
become widespread, with the effect that the theoretical analysis of
the concept of ideology has been modified and denatured. The
process leading up to this error can be easily reconstructed :

1. ideology is identified as distinct from the structure, and it is
asserted that it is not ideology that changes the structures but
vice versa;

2. it is asserted that a given political solution is "ideological" —
i.e. that it is not sufficient to change the structure, although it
thinks that it can do so; it is asserted that it is useless, stupid, etc.;

3. one then passes to the assertion that every ideology is "pure"
appearance, useless, stupid, etc.

One must therefore distinguish between historically organic
ideologies, those, that is, which are necessary to a given structure,

74 Henri De Man, Belgian Social-Democrat, was the author of a book An deli
du Marxisms ("Beyond Marxism"), frequently referred to and criticised in the
Quademi (see in particular MS, pp. 1 1 1-1 14). Croce's "practical" reason for
enthusiasm for De Man lies in their shared opposition to revolutionary Marxism,
although strictly speaking Crocean philosophy denies a serious theoretical role
to ideological and instrumental thought such as De Man's.

n For Gramsci's criticism of Bukharin's Popular Manual, see below pp. 419-472.

THE STUDY OF PHILOSOPHY

377

and ideologies that are arbitrary, rationalistic, or "willed". To the
extent that ideologies are historically necessary they have a validity
which is "psychological"; they "organise" human masses, and
create the terrain on which men move, acquire consciousness of
their position, struggle, etc. To the extent that they are arbitrary
they only create individual "movements", polemics and so on
(though even these are not completely useless, since they function
like an error which by contrasting with truth, demonstrates it) .

It is worth recalling the frequent affirmation made by Marx on
the "solidity of popular beliefs" as a necessary element of a specific
situation. What he says more or less is "when this way of con-
ceiving things has the force of popular beliefs", etc. Another proposi-
tion of Marx is that a popular conviction often has the same energy
as a material force or something of the kind, which is extremely
significant. The analysis of these propositions tends, I think, to
reinforce the conception of historical bloc in which precisely material
forces are the content and ideologies are the form, though this
distinction between form and content has purely didactic value,
since the material forces would be inconceivable historically without
form and the ideologies would be individual fancies without the
material forces.

2

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM

INTRODUCTION

In this section we have included some basic texts from the Prison
Notebooks dealing with problems of Marxism itself. The first part,
Some Problems in the Study of the Philosophy of Praxis, has the same
fragmentary character as the Problems of Philosophy and History
(pp. 343 77), and like that text is the result of some re-ordering of
Gramsci's MS by the original Italian editors. Two basic themes
underlie the notes. One is the need for a reconstruction of the
origins of Marxism, beginning with the works of Marx and Engels
themselves. The second concerns the liberation of the Marxist
tradition from various accretions of a positivist and/or neo-Kantian
order, characteristic of much of orthodox Marxism since the death
of Engels. In the notes Gramsci stresses Marx's debt to English
political economy and to the idealist tradition in German philosophy,
culminating in Hegel, seeing Marxism as a synthesis of these two
trends with the political heritage of the French Revolution. The
originality of Marxism, in this perspective, lies in its definitive
rejection of any form of transcendentalism, rather than in its
materialism. This leads Gramsci to a reformulation of the critique
of idealism. Although he argues the need to combat directly the
theories of Croce and devotes large sections of his Notebooks (MS.
pp. 171 254, not reproduced in this volume) to precisely this task, he
locates the main enemy of the philosophy of praxis not in idealism
as such but^in transcendence and metaphysics, focusing his attention
on the neo-Kantian deviations of the Austro-Marxism of Adler
and Hilferding and on the "materialist" orthodoxy of Plekhanov
and Bukharin.

The second part of the section consists of Gramsci's Critical Notes on
an Attempt at Popular Sociology, which provide a sustained critique of
the "vulgar materialist" aspect of Marxist orthodoxy. Nikolai
Bukharin's The Theory of Historical Materialism, A Manual of Popular
Sociology was first published in Moscow in 1921, where it went
through several editions. An English translation, based on the
third Russian edition, was published by Allen and Unwin in ig26,
under the title Historical Materialism, A System of Sociology, and there
was a French edition in the following year, which was probably

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM 379

the one known to Gramsci. (For reasons which will appear, we
have preferred, in our translation of Gramsci's text, to stick to the
original title as used by Gramsci.) Various criticisms were made of
the book, on grounds of positivism and vulgar materialism, initially
by Lukacs (see New Left Review, No. 39) but also by Soviet philo-
sophers. Lenin had observed, in his "Testament", that Bukharin
was a brilliant theoretician but "ignorant of the dialectic", a
criticism which was to gain force with the revival of interest in the
dialectic following the publication in the Soviet Union of Lenin's
Philosophical Notebooks. In the face of criticism Bukharin made
attempts to modify his point of view. Gramsci refers in this con-
nection to a paper given by Bukharin at the London Congress of
the History of Science in June-July 1931, which unfortunately we
have been unable to trace. There is no doubt, though, that the
text he wrote for the Academy of Sciences of the USSR in 1 933
(published in Marxism and Modern Thought, by N. Bukharin and
others, edited by Ralph Fox, London 1935) represents a last-ditch
attempt to reconcile the positions of the 1921 Manual with the
criticisms levelled against it — and not only from the "idealist"
standpoint of Deborin and Lukacs. By that time however Bukharin's
days were numbered, politically as well as philosophically. He had
been under fire for his opposition to the first Five Year Plan and
the collectivisation of agriculture and was put on trial for his part
in a supposed "conspiracy" and executed in 1938.

The interest and importance of Gramsci's critique are two-fold.
In the first place Bukharin, despite his subsequent disgrace, repre-
sented an influential current within orthodox Marxism. He was
in many ways the inheritor of a materialist tradition which flourishe d
as much in Social-Democratic circles as within the Communist
movement and whose influence has survived to this day. Gramsci's
exposure, from an alternative Marxist standpoint, of the crudity
and banality of a style of thinking of which the Manual is a prime
representative has therefore more than academic and historical
interest. More important still is the fact that, in the course of his
demolition of the vulgar materialist position of the Manual, Gramsci
in the Critical Notes comes closer than anywhere else to a systematic
expose of the principles underlying his own approach to the problems
of Marxist theory. Gramsci's Marxism was essentially critical. For
that reason he could not be content with any doctrine which
attempted to reduce Marxism to the status of a positive science — in
Bukharin's case a "sociology" — separating the thing known from
the process whereby knowledge is acquired. And, by reason of this

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same critical method, it is through his analysis of the errors of the
Manual — sociologism, vulgar materialism, philistinism, ignorance of
the dialectic — that he himself most clearly expresses the dialectical
historicism which is the hallmark of his own genius.

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM

SOME PROBLEMS IN THE STUDY OF THE PHILOSOPHY

OF PRAXIS

Statement of the problem

Production of new Weltanschauungen [world outlooks] to fertilise and
nourish the culture of an historical epoch, and philosophically
directed production according to the original Weltawchauungen.
Marx is the creator of a Weltanschauung. But what is Ilich [Lenin] 's
position? Is it purely subordinate and subaltern? The explanation
is to be found in Marxism itself as both science and action.

The passage from Utopia to science and from science to action.
The foundation of a directive class [classe dirigente] (i.e. of a State)
is equivalent to the creation of a Weltanschauung. How is the state-
ment that the German proletariat is the heir of classical German
philosophy to be understood ? Surely what Marx 1 wanted to indicate
was the historical function of his philosophy when it became the
theory of a class which was in turn to become a State ? With Ilich
this really came about in a particular territory. I have referred
elsewhere 2 to the philosophical importance of the concept and the
fact of hegemony, for which Ilich is responsible. Hegemony realised
means the real critique of a philosophy, its real dialectic. Compare
here what Graziadei* writes in the introduction to Prezzo e sopra-
prezzo ." 4 he puts forward Marx as a unit in a series of great men of

1 The statement that the German proletariat is the heir of classical German
philosophy is not in Marx but is the final sentence of Engels' Ludwig Feuerbach
and the End of Classical German Philosophy.

a See pp. 333, 357 and 365 above. The "fact of hegemony" referred to is of
course the Soviet Revolution. The attribution of the 'xoncept of hegemony" to
Lenin is more difficult to interpret, since the word hegemony as such does not
figure prominently in Lenin's work. It seems most likely that what Gramsci
has in mind are aspects of Lenin's general theory of proletarian revolution as
they evolved in the struggle against economism and as they are expressed for
example in Two Tactics of Social Democracy (1905).

* Graziadei is backward in comparison with Monsignor Olgiati, 3 who, in his
volume on Marx, finds no comparison possible except with Jesus — a comparison
which, coming from a prelate, is really the most extreme concession, given that he
believes in the divine nature of Christ.

' F. Olgiati, Carlo Marx, Milan, 1918.

4 Prezzo e sopraprezzo neU'economia capitalistica [Price and surplus price in
capitalist economy], subtitled "A Critique of Marx's theory of value" and first
published by Edizioni Avanti, Milan, 1923. Count Antonio Graziadei (1873-1953)
joined the PCI at Livorno, wrote the theses on the agrarian question for the 1922
Rome Congress, and became one of the main leaders of the Right after the
congress. At the Fourth World Congress, he was the principal spokesman for the

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science. Fundamental error: none of the others has produced an
original and integral conception of the world. Marx initiates
intellectually an historical epoch which will last in all probability
for centuries, that is, until the disappearance of political society
and the coming of a regulated society. 5 Only then will his conception
of the world be superseded, when the conception of necessity is
superseded by the conception of freedom.

To make a comparison between Marx and Ilich in order to
create a hierarchy is stupid and useless. They express two phases:
science and action, which are homogeneous and heterogeneous at
the same time.

Thus, historically, a parallel between Christ and St. Paul would
be absurd. Christ — Weltanschauung, and St. Paul — organiser, action,
expansion of the Weltanschauung — are both necessary to the same
degree and therefore of the same historical stature. Christianity
could be called historically "Christianity-Paulinism", and this
would indeed be a more exact title. (It is only the belief in the
divinity of Christ which has prevented this from happening, but
the belief is itself an historical and not a theoretical element.)

Questions of Method

If one wishes to study the birth of a conception of the world which
has never been systematically expounded by its founder (and one
furthermore whose essential coherence is to be sought not in each
individual writing or series of writings but in the whole development
of the multiform intellectual work in which the elements of the
conception are implicit) some preliminary detailed philological
work has to be done. This has to be carried out with the most
scrupulous accuracy, scientific honesty and intellectual loyalty and
without any preconceptions, apriorism or parti pris. It is necessary,
first of all, to reconstruct the process of intellectual development of
the thinker in question in order to identify those elements which
were to become stable and "permanent" — in other words those

minority in the Italian party, arguing for a full acceptance of the united front
policy. Coopted into the CC after the wave of arrests of communist leaders in
early 1923, he was violently attacked by Zinoviev at the Fifth World Congress
for his revision of Marxism — in the book referred to here by Gramsci. After the
incorporation of Tasca into the PCI leadership, the Right ceased to exist in any
organised form; Grariadei remained as an isolated figure on the extreme right
of the party until he was expelled in 1928.

6 i.e. Communism. See note 59 on p. 257. For the notion that with the coming
of Communism and of the "reign of freedom" Marxism itself will be superseded,
see p. 404 and note 59 on p. 367.

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM

383

which were taken up as the thinker's own thought, distinct from
and superior to the "material" which he had studied earlier and
which served as a stimulus to him. It is only the former elements
which are essential aspects of the process of development. This
selection can be made for periods of varying length, determined by
intrinsic factors and not by external evidence (though that too can
be utilised) and it results in a series of "discards", that is to say
of partial doctrines and theories for which the thinker may have
had a certain sympathy, at certain times, even to the extent of
having accepted them provisionally and of having availed himself
of them for his work of criticism and of historical and scientific
creation.

It is a matter of common observation among all scholars, from
personal experience, that any new theory studied with "heroic
fury" 6 (that is, studied not out of mere external curiosity but for
reasons of deep interest) for a certain period, especially if one is
young, attracts the student of its own accord and takes possession
of his whole personality, only to be limited by the study of the
next theory, until such a time as a critical equilibrium is created
and one learns to study deeply but without succumbing to the
fascination of the system and the author under study. These
observations are all the more valid the more the thinker in question
is endowed with a violent impetus, has a polemical character and
is lacking in esprit de systeme, or when one is dealing with a personality
in whom theoretical and practical activity are indissolubly inter-
twined and with an intellect in a process of continual creation and
perpetual movement, with a strong and mercilessly vigorous sense
of self-criticism.

Given these premisses, the work should be conducted on the
following lines:

1. Reconstruction of the author's biography, not only as regards
his practical activity, but also and above all as regards his intellectual
activity.

2. A catalogue of all his works, even those most easily overlooked,
in chronological order, divided according to intrinsic criteria — of
intellectual formation, maturity, possession and application of the
new way of thinking and of conceiving life and the world. Search
for the Leitmotiv, 7 for the rhythm of the thought as it develops,

6 The reference is to the Dell' 'eroico furore (1585) of Giordano Bruno (1548 1600),
in which a distinction is made between knowledge as contemplation and as active
striving or "heroic fury".

7 Guiding (or leading) motif. The term is most commonly used in connection
with music, in particularly with Wagner.

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should be more important than that for single casual affirmations
and isolated aphorisms.

This preliminary work is needed to make any further research
possible. A distinction should further be made within the work of
the thinker under consideration between those works which he has
carried through to the end and published himself or those which
remain unpublished, because incomplete, and those which were
published by a friend or disciple, but not without revisions, re-
writings, cuts, etc., or in other words not without the active inter-
vention of a publisher or editor. It is clear that the content of
posthumous works has to be taken with great discretion and
caution, because it cannot be considered definitive but only as
material still being elaborated and still provisional. One should
not exclude the possibility that these works, particularly if they
have been a long time in the making and if the author never
decided to finish them, might have been repudiated or deemed
unsatisfactory in whole or in part by the author.

In the specific case of the founder of the philosophy of praxis
[Marx], the literary work can be distinguished into two categories:

1. Works published under the direct responsibility of the author:
among these one should reckon, generally speaking, not only those
materially handed over for printing but all those "published" or
put into circulation in any way by the author, things like letters,
circulars, etc. (a typical example would be the Notes on the Gotha
Programme, and the Correspondence).

2. Works printed not under the direct responsibility of the author,
but posthumously by others: for these works it is as well to have a
diplomatic text, 8 as indeed is already being done, or at least a
minute description of the original text made according to scientific
criteria.

Both sections should be reconstructed according to chronological-
critical periods, so that it is possible to establish valid comparisons
and not purely mechanical and arbitrary ones.

Minute study and analysis should be devoted to the work of

8 A diplomatic edition is one which reproduces exactly the literal text of what
an author wrote, as opposed to a critical edition which attempts to produce the
best text, emending or correcting the manuscript where necessary. The importance
of issuing a diplomatic edition of Marx's work lies in the fact that many of his
most important writings, including the second and third volumes of Capital, were
left in fragmentary or unfinished form at the time of his death. Although Engels
at least was a very scrupulous editor, the fact remains, as Gramsci points out
below, that he was not Marx and even the best emendations to a manuscript
are no substitute for the original itself.

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM 385

elaboration carried out by the author on the material of the works
subsequently printed by the author himself. At the least this study
would provide indications and criteria to enable one to evaluate
critically the reliability of edited versions of posthumous works
compiled by others. The further the preparatory material for the
works published by the author is from the definitive text as revised
by himself, the less reliable the revision by another hand of similar
material. A work can never be identified with the raw material
collected for its compilation. It is the definitive choice, the way the
component elements are disposed, the greater or lesser importance
given to this or that element of those collected in the preparatory
phase, which are precisely what constitute the effective work.

Even a study of the correspondence should be carried out with
certain precautions: a confident assertion made in a letter would
perhaps not be repeated in a book. The stylistic vivacity of the
letters, though often artistically more effective than the more
measured and considered style of a book, can sometimes lead to
weaknesses in the argument. In letters, as in speeches or in con-
versations, logical errors occur more frequently: the greater rapidity
of thought is often achieved at the expense of its solidity.

Only at the secondary level, in the study of an original and
innovating form of thought, should one consider the contribution
of other people to its documentation. It is in this way, at least as a
general principle and as method, that the question of the relation-
ship of homogeneity between the two founders of the philosophy of
praxis [Marx and Engels] should be posed. When one or other
makes an affirmation on their reciprocal agreement, this affirmation
is valid only for the subject in question. Even the fact that one of
them has written some chapters for a book written by the other is
not an absolute reason why the book should be considered the
result of a perfect agreement. There is no need to underrate the
contribution of the second [Engels] but there is no need either to
identify the second with the first [Engels with Marx] nor should
one think that everything attributed by [Engels] to [Marx] is
absolutely authentic and free from infiltration. It is certain that
[Engels] demonstrates a disinterest and a lack of personal vanity
which are unique in the history of literature, but this is not the
point: nor is it a question of doubting [Engels's] absolute scientific
honesty. The point is that [Engels] is not [Marx] , and that if one
wants to know [Marx] one must look for him above all in his
authentic works, those published under his direct responsibility.
From these observations there derive a number of warnings about

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method and some indications for related research. For example,
what would be the value of Rodolfo Mondolfo's book 9 on the
historical materialism of Frederick] E[ngels], published by
Formaggini in 1912? In a letter to Croce, Sorel expresses doubts
whether, given Eng[els]'s scant capacities as an original thinker,
such a subject can be studied, and he frequently repeats that one
should not confuse the two authors. Apart from the question raised
by Sorel, it would seem that for the very reason that (apparently)
it is asserted that the second of the two friends has scant capacities
as a theoretician (or at least occupies a subaltern position in relation
to the first), it is indispensable to study who is responsible for the
original thought. In reality, apart from Mondolfo's book, no
systematic research of this type has been undertaken in the world
of culture. Indeed, [Engels's] expositions, some of which are
relatively systematic, have by now been given a position in the
front rank as an authentic source, and indeed as the only authentic
source. For this reason Mondolfo's volume seems very useful, at
least for the guiding line which it traces.

Antonio Labriola 10

One very useful thing would be an objective and systematic reswni
(even of a scholastic-analytical kind) of all the publications of
Antonio Labriola on the philosophy of praxis to replace the volumes
no longer available. A work of this kind is a necessary preliminary
for any initiative aimed at putting back into circulation Labriola's
philosophical position, which is very little known outside a restricted
circle. It is amazing that Leo Bronstein [Trotsky] in his memoirs 11
should speak of Labriola's "dilettantism". This judgment is in-
comprehensible (unless it is a reference to the gap between theory
and practice in Labriola as a person, which would not appear to
be the case) except as an unconscious reflection of the pseudo-
scientific pedantry of the German intellectual group that was so
influential in Russia. In reality Labriola, who affirms that the

9 Roberto Mondolfo, II materialismo storico in Federico Engds, Genoa, 1912. For
a possible influence of Mondolfo's Hegelian-Marxist theory of praxis on Gramsci's
"philosophy of praxis" see General Introduction.

10 For a discussion of Antonio Labriola ( 1 843 1 904), the most important of
early Italian Marxists and a vital influence on Gramsci's philosophical thought,
see General Introduction.

11 The reference to Labriola comes in My Life (1930), a book which Gramsci
was able to read in prison only because it was written after Trotsky's expulsion
from the Soviet Union and therefore, apparently, did not come into the forbidden
category of "political agitation".

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM

387

philosophy of praxis is independent of any other philosophical
current, is self-sufficient and is the only man who has attempted to
build up the philosophy of praxis scientifically.

The dominant tendency manifested itself in two main currents:

1. The so-called orthodox tendency, represented by Plekhanov 12
(cf. his Fundamental Problems [of Marxism]), who, in reality,
despite his assertions to the contrary, relapses into vulgar materi-
alism. The problem of the "origins" of Marx's thought has not been
properly considered: a detailed study of his philosophical culture
(and of the general philosophical environment in which he was
formed directly and indirectly) is certainly necessary, but only as
the premiss for a far more important study, that of his own "original"
philosophy, which cannot be exhausted by study of a few "sources"
or his personal "culture". It is necessary, first of all, to take account
of his creative and constructive activity. The way in which Plek-
hanov poses the problem is typical of the positivist method, and
demonstrates his meagre speculative and historiographical ability.

2. The orthodox tendency has determined the growth of its
opposite: the tendency to connect the philosophy of praxis to
Kantianism and to other non-positivist and non-materialist philo-
sophical tendencies. This reached its "agnostic" conclusion with
Otto Bauer, 13 who writes in his book on religion that Marxism can
be supported and integrated by any philosophy, even Thomism. 14
This second tendency is not really a tendency in the strict sense, buf
an ensemble of all the tendencies — including even the Freudianism ot
De Man — that do not accept the so-called "orthodoxy" of Germanic
pedantry.

Why is it that Labriola and his way of posing the philosophical
problem has enjoyed such a limited fortune ? One could repeat here
what Rosa [Luxemburg] said about critical economy [Capital] and
its most refined problems : 15 in the romantic period of struggle, the

11 Georgy Valentinovich Plekhanov (1857 1918), Marxist philosopher, active
in the Russian Social-Democratic movement in the latter years of the nineteenth
century and then after 1 903 aligned with the Menshevik faction. As a philosopher
Plekhanov continued to be esteemed by the Bolsheviks, both before and after
the Revolution, and he represents an essential link in the chain of orthodox
materialist thought which Gramsci is combating. The Fundamental Problems of
Marxism, called by Lenin the finest exposition of Marxism, was first published in
1908.

13 Otto Bauer (1882-1938) was an Austrian Social Democrat and a leading
exponent of the tendency known as Austro-Marxism (see note 19 on p. 389). His
views on the compatibility of Marxist economics with Thomist epistemology are
to be found in the volume Sozialdemokratie, Religion und Kirche (1927).

14 Thomism: i.e. the scholastic philosophy of St. Thomas Aquinas (1224-74).
16 In the article Stagnation and Progress in Marxism (see note 25 on p. 392).

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period of popular Sturm und Drang) 18 all interest is focussed on the
most immediate weapons and on tactical problems in the political
field and on minor cultural problems in the philosophical field.
But from the moment in which a subaltern group becomes really
autonomous and hegemonic, thus bringing into being a new form
of State, we experience the concrete birth of a need to construct a
new intellectual and moral order, that is, a new type of society,
and hence the need to develop more universal concepts and more
refined and decisive ideological weapons. That is why it is necessary
to bring Labriola back into circulation and to make his way of
posing the philosophical problem predominant. One can thus open
the struggle for an autonomous and superior culture, the positive
part of the struggle whose negative and polemical manifestations
bear names with "a- 1 'privative and "anti-" — a-theism, anti-clerical-
ism etc. One thus gives a modern and contemporary form to the
traditional secular humanism which must be the ethical basis of
the new type of State.*

The Philosophy of Praxis and Modem Culture

The philosophy of praxis has been a "moment" 17 of modern culture.
To a certain extent it has determined or enriched certain cultural
currents. Study of this fact, which is very important and full of
significance, has been neglected or quite simply ignored by the
so-called orthodoxy, and for this reason: the most important
philosophical combination that has taken place has been between
the philosophy of praxis and various idealistic tendencies, a fact
which, to the so-called orthodoxy, essentially bound to a particular
cultural current of the last quarter of the last century (positivism,
scientism), has seemed an absurdity if not actually a piece of
chicanery. (In Plekhanov's essay on Fundamentals the fact is, admit-
tedly, referred to, but it is hardly touched upon and with no
attempt at a critical explanation.) For this reason it would appear
necessary to re-evaluate the consideration of the problem as
attempted by Antonio Labriola.

19 Sturm und Drang (literally "storm and stress") : a German pre-Romantic
literary movement, hence by extension any turbulent period in cultural life.

* An analytical and systematic treatment of Antonio Labriola's philosophical
conception could become the philosophical part of an ordinary magazine ( Voce,
Leonardo, Ordine Nuovo). An international bibliography on Labriola (Neuc
etc.) should also be compiled.

17 As frequently in Gramsci, the word "moment" \momenio\ is here being
used in a sense that combines the temporal "moment of time" with the ideas
of "aspect" or "feature", and of "motive force". (See also Note on Gramsci's
Terminology, p. xiii.)

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM

389

What happened is this: the philosophy of praxis has undergone
in reality a double revision, that is to say it has been subsumed into
a double philosophical combination. On the one hand, certain of
its elements, explicitly or implicitly, have been absorbed and
incorporated by a number of idealist currents (one need mention
only Croce, Gentile, Sorel, Bergson even, pragmatism). 18 On the
other hand, the so-called orthodoxy, concerned to find a philosophy
which, according to their extremely limited viewpoint, was more
comprehensive than just a "simple" interpretation of history, have
believed themselves orthodox in identifying this philosophy funda-
mentally with traditional materialism. Another current has gone
back to Kantianism (here one can mention, apart from Professor
Max Adler 19 in Vienna, the Italian professors Alfredo Poggi and
Adelchi Baratono). 20 It can be observed, in general terms, that the
currents which have attempted combinations of the philosophy of
praxis with idealist tendencies consist for the most part of "pure"
intellectuals, whereas the current which has constituted the ortho-
doxy consisted of intellectual personalities more markedly dedicated
to practical activity and therefore more closely linked (with more
or less extrinsic links) to the great popular masses (a fact which,

18 For the influence of Marxism on Croce, initially considerable, then reduced
to that of a "simple canon of historical research", see B. Croce, Materialismo storico
ed economia marxistica (first published 1900: Volume II, 4 of Collected Works).
For Gentile see La flosofia di Marx, Studi critici, Pisa, 1 899, in which Gentile shows
himself a devotee of the Young Marx, interpreted in a very idealist fashion. As
for Sorel, the Marxist residues, implicit and explicit, in his later syndicalist theory
are fairly transparent, even when he is at his most polemical. Such cannot be
claimed, however, for either Bergson or the Pragmatists, in whose writings
Marxism appears, if at all, only as part of a general heritage of current ideas.

" Max Adler (1873-1937), Austrian sociologist and Social Democrat theore-
tician, together with Otto Bauer (see note 1 3 above) and Rolf Hilferding one of
the leading exponents of Austro-Marxism (from 1 904). The Austro-Marxists, who
represented the "orthodox" thinking of the Second International, in opposition
both to Lenin and to the revisionism of Bernstein, laid particular stress on the
scientific aspects of Marx's work, at the expense of the element of revolutionary
praxis. Having found in Marx only the objective laws of the development of
society, in a strictly value-free sense, they tended to look for their values and for
reasons for political choices, not in the immanent laws of the dialectic itself, but
in the transcendental ethics of Kant.

20 Social-Democratic theoreticians. Of Baratono (1875 1947), the more
important of the two and once defined by the Reformist Socialist leader Turati
as "the philosopher of the leadership of our Party", Gramsci wrote (Ordine Nuovo,
17 January 1922): "The revolutionary verbalism of the Rt. Hon. Adelchi
Baratono has no parallel except in the philosophical verbalism of Professor
Adelchi Baratono, pedagogue. . . . Baratono's interior life, his capacity for under-
standing, the activity of his imagination, show him as nothing other than the
tape-worm of a political and philosophical culture that he has absorbed as a
reader of books and newspapers."

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however, has not prevented the majority of them from performing
somersaults of no small historico-political consequence).

The distinction has considerable importance. The "pure"
intellectuals, acting as the elaborators of the most widespread
ideologies of the dominant classes and as leaders 21 of the intellectual
groups in their countries, could not fail to make use of at least
some elements of the philosophy of praxis, to give strength to their
conceptions and moderate an excess of speculative philosophism
with the historicist realism of the new theory and to provide new
arms for the arsenal of the social group with which they were
linked. The orthodox tendency, on the other hand, found itself
involved in a struggle against the ideology most widespread amongst
the popular masses, religious transcendentalism, and reckoned to
overcome this only with the crudest and most banal materialism.
But this materialism was itself a far from indifferent stratum of
common sense, kept alive, to a much greater degree than was
thought then or is thought today, by religion itself, which has its
expression among the people in a low and trivial form, full of
superstition and witchcraft, in which matter plays no small role.

Labriola distinguishes himself from both currents by his affirma-
tion (not always, admittedly, unequivocal) that the philosophy of
praxis is an independent and original philosophy which contains
in itself the elements of a further development, so as to become,
from an interpretation of history, a general philosophy. This is the
direction in which one must work, developing Antonio Labriola's
position, which Rodolfo Mondolfo's books (as far as I remember)
do not seem to develop coherently.*

Why has the philosophy of praxis had this fate of having served
to form combinations between its principal elements and either
idealism or philosophical materialism? Research into this cannot
but be complex and delicate; it requires a lot of finesse in analysis
and intellectual sobriety. For it is very easy to be deceived by external
similarities and not to see hidden similarities and necessary but
camouflaged connections. The identification of the concepts which
the philosophy of praxis has "yielded up" to traditional philosophies,
and thanks to which these latter have enjoyed a brief moment of

a In English in the text.

* It seems that Mondolfo has never completely abandoned the fundamentally
positivist point of view of a pupil of Roberto Ardigo. The book by Mondolfo's
disciple, Diambrini Palazzi (with preface by Mondolfo) on the philosophy of
Antonio Labriola, 22 is evidence of the poverty of concepts and guidelines of
Mondolfo's own university teaching.

22 S . Diambrini Palazzi, // pensiero jiloso fco di Antonio Labriola, Bologna s.d. [i 923]

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM ggl

rejuvenation, must be made with great critical caution, and it
means no more nor less than writing the history of modern culture
since the activity of its founders [Marx and Engels].

Clearly, explicit absorption is not hard to track down, though
that too must be critically analysed. A classical example is that
represented by the Crocean reduction of the philosophy of praxis
to an empirical canon of historical research. This concept, which
has penetrated even among the Catholics (cf. Monsignor Olgiati's
book) has contributed to the creation of the economico-juridical
school of Italian historiography, 23 which has spread beyond the
frontiers of Italy. But the most difficult and delicate research is that
into implicit and unacknowledged absorption, which has taken
place precisely because the philosophy of praxis has been a moment
of modern culture, a diffuse atmosphere, which has modified old
ways of thinking through actions and reactions which are neither
apparent nor immediate. A study of Sorel is particularly interesting
from this point of view, because through Sorel and his fortunes one
can obtain many relevant indications. The same could be said for
Croce. But the most important study, it seems to me, should be
that of Bergsonian philosophy and of pragmatism, in order to find
out to what extent certain of their positions would be inconceivable
without the historical link of the philosophy of praxis.

Another aspect of the question is the practical lesson in the
science of politics which the philosophy of praxis has given even
to those of its opponents who contest it bitterly on principle, just
as the Jesuits contested Machiavelli in theory while remaining in
practice his best disciples. In an "Opinion" published in La Stampa
at the time when he was its Rome correspondent (about 1925),
Mario Missiroli 2 * writes more or less that it would be interesting
to know whether in their heart of hearts the more intelligent
industrialists were not convinced that the "Critical Economy"
[Capital] contained very good insights into their affairs, and

a3 Members of this school included Gaetano Salvemini, Gioacchino Volpe,
Niccol6 Rodolico and Romolo Caggese. With the victory of fascism the school
broke up, Salvemini, a Socialist, going into exile and Volpe becoming an historian
of the regime.

21 The figure of Mario Missiroli (b. 1886), historian, journalist and editor,
appears to have exercised a peculiar fascination on Gramsci and references to
him abound throughout the Quademi. In a sense Gramsci sees him as the type-
figure of the bourgeois Italian intellectual, prevented by a natural facility and
superficiality and by the general conditions of Italian intellectual life from any
consistent application of his considerable talent, and a willing victim, despite his
brilliance, of intellectual and political fashions. (See, in particular the short text
entitled Gli intellettuali: la decadenza di Mario Missiroli, PP. pp. 11 0-12.)

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whether they do not take advantage of the lessons thus acquired.
This would not be in any way surprising, for if [Marx] has analysed
reality exactly then he has done nothing other than systematise
rationally and coherently what the historical agents of this reality
felt and still feel in a confused and instinctive way, and of which
they have a clearer consciousness as a result of the hostile critique.

A further aspect of the question is even more interesting. Why is
it that even the so-called orthodoxy has combined the philosophy
of praxis with other philosophies, and prevalently with one in
particular rather than with others? In fact the one that counts is
the combination with traditional materialism; the combination
with Kantianism has had only a limited success and only among
certain restricted intellectual groups. On this question it is worth
looking at Rosa [Luxemburg] 's essay on progress and stagnation in
the development of the philosophy of praxis, 25 where she notes how
the constituent parts of this philosophy have developed in varying
degrees, but always following the necessities of practical activity.
This implies that the founders of the new philosophy were a long
way ahead of the necessities of their period and even of the period
that followed, and that they created an arsenal stocked with
weapons which were still not ready for use, because ahead of their
time, and which were to be ready for service only some time later.
The explanation is somewhat arbitrary in that to a large extent
all it does is to present an abstract formulation of the fact to be
explained as an explanation of the fact itself. None the less it
contains a nugget of truth which is worth exploring in depth. One
of the historical reasons can, it seems to me, be looked for in the
fact that the philosophy of praxis has been forced to ally itself with
extraneous tendencies in order to combat the residues of the pre-
capitalist world that still exist among the popular masses, especially
in the field of religion.

The philosophy of praxis had two tasks to perform: to combat
modern ideologies in their most refined form, in order to be able
to constitute its own group of independent intellectuals; and to
educate the popular masses, whose culture was medieval. This
second task, which was fundamental, given the character of the
new philosophy, has absorbed all its strength, not only in quan-
titative but also in qualitative terms. For "didactic" reasons, the
new philosophy was combined into a form of culture which was a

" Rosa Luxemburg, Stillstand und Forlschritt im Marxismus, first published in
Vorwarts on 14 March 1903, on the occasion of the 20th anniversary of Marx*
death.

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM

393

little higher than the popular average (which was very low) but
was absolutely inadequate to combat the ideologies of the educated
classes. And yet the new philosophy was born precisely to supersede
the highest cultural manifestation of the age, classical German
philosophy, and to create a group of intellectuals specific to the
new social group whose conception of the world it was. On the
other side, modern culture, especially that marked by idealism,
does not manage to elaborate a popular culture or to give a moral
and scientific content to its own school programmes, which remain
abstract and theoretical schemas. 26 It remains the culture of a re-
stricted intellectual aristocracy, which exercises a hold on youth
only rarely and to the extent that it becomes immediate (and
occasional) 27 politics.

It remains to be seen whether this form of cultural alignment of
forces might not be an historical necessity, and whether one would
not find similar alignments in past history, allowing for particular
circumstances of time and place. The classical example, previous
to the modern period, is undoubtedly that of the Renaissance in
Italy and the Reformation in the Protestant countries. On Page 1 1
of his book Storia dell'eta barocca in Italia?* Croce writes:

"The movement of the Renaissance remained an aristocratic
movement and one of elite circles, and even in Italy, which was
both mother and nurse to the movement, it did not escape from
courtly circles, it did not penetrate to the people or become
custom and 'prejudice', in other words collective persuasion and
faith. The Reformation, on the other hand, did indeed possess
this efficacity of popular penetration, but it paid for it with a
retarding of its intrinsic development, with the slow and often
interrupted maturation of its vital germ."
And again on Page 8 :

"Luther, like those humanists, deplores sadness and celebrates
gaiety, he condemns idleness and commands work: but, on the

** Gramsci would appear here particularly to have in mind the reform of the
Italian school system carried out under the aegis of the idealist philosopher and
Fascist Minister of Education, Giovanni Gentile, in 1923. A major feature of
the riforma Gentile as it affected humanistic education in secondary schools was its
attempt to provide a rapid synthesis of the whole of Italian "high culture", seen
in the light of the development of the national ideal. (See also introduction to
"On Education", p. 24.)

" occasionale: meaning, as often in Gramsci, "occasional" not in the temporal
sense but in that of "inorganic" or "peripheral".

88 B. Croce, Storia dell'etd barocca in Italia (first published 1929: Volume III,
23 of Collected Works). In the Collected Works edition the quotation given by
Gramsci as on p. 1 1 is in fact on p. 12.

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other hand, he is led to an attitude of diffidence and hostility
towards letters and study, so that Erasmus could say 'ubicumque
regnat lutheranismus, ibi literarum est interitus' [wherever Lutheranism
reigns, there is the death of letters]. Certainly, if not just as the
effect solely of the aversion adopted by its founder, German
protestantism was for a couple of centuries all but sterile in the
field of study, criticism, and philosophy. The Italian reformers,
notably those of the circle of Juan de Valdes and their friends,
managed however, to combine without stress humanism and
mysticism, the cult of study and moral austerity. Calvinism, with
its harsh conception of Grace and its harsh discipline, did not
favour the free search for knowledge and the cult of beauty
either, but it acquired the role, by interpreting, developing
and adapting the concept of Grace into that of vocation, of
energetically promoting economic life, production and the
increase of wealth."

The Lutheran Reformation and Calvinism created a vast
national-popular movement through which their influence spread:
only in later periods did they create a higher culture. The Italian
reformers were infertile of any major historical success. 29 It is true
that even the Reformation, in its higher phase, necessarily adopted
the style of the Renaissance and as such spread even in non-protestant
countries where the movement had not had a popular incubation.
But the phase of popular development enabled the protestant
countries to resist the crusade of the Catholic armies tenaciously
and victoriously. Thus there was born the German nation as one
of the most vigorous in modern Europe. France was lacerated by
the wars of religion leading to an apparent victory of Catholicism,
but it experienced a great popular reformation in the eighteenth
century with the Enlightenment, Voltairianism and the Ency-
clopaedia. This reformation preceded and accompanied the Revolu-
tion of 1789. It really was a matter here of a great intellectual and
moral reformation of the French people, more complete than the
German Lutheran Reformation, because it also embraced the great
peasant masses in the countryside and had a distinct secular basis
and attempted to replace religion with a completely secular ideology

*• For this thesis compare what Gramsci writes elsewhere (Ris. pp. 33-34) on the
subject of the Reformation in Italy: "It must be observed that in Italy, unlike
other countries, not even religion acted as an element of cohesion between people
and intellectuals, and that for this very reason the philosophical crisis of the
intellectuals did not extend to the people, because it did not originate from the
people and there did not exist a 'national-popular bloc' in the religious field."

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM

395

represented by the national and patriotic bond. Not even this
reformation had an immediate flowering of high culture, except in
political science in the form of the positive science of right.*

A conception of the philosophy of praxis as a modern popular
reformation (since those people who expect a religious reformation
in Italy, a new Italian edition of Calvinism, like Missiroli and Co.,
are living in cloud-cuckooland) was perhaps hinted at by Georges
Sorel, but his vision was fragmentary and intellectualistic, because
of his kind of Jansenist fury against the squalor of parliamentarism
and political parties. Sorel has taken from Renan the concept of
the necessity of an intellectual and moral reformation; he has
affirmed (in a letter to Missiroli) that great historical movements
are often represented by a modern culture, etc. It seems to me,
though, that a conception of this kind is implicit in Sorel when he
uses primitive Christianity as a touchstone, in a rather literary way
it is true, but nevertheless with more than a grain of truth; with
mechanical and often contrived references, but nevertheless with
occasional flashes of profound intuition.

The philosophy of praxis presupposes all this cultural past:
Renaissance and Reformation, German philosophy and the French
Revolution, Calvinism and English classical economics, secular
liberalism and this historicism which is at the root of the whole
modern conception of life. The philosophy of praxis is the crowning
point of this entire movement of intellectual and moral reformation,
made dialectical in the contrast between popular culture and high
culture. It corresponds to the nexus Protestant Reformation plus
French Revolution: it is a philosophy which is also politics, and a
politics which is also philosophy. It is still going through its populist 31
phase: creating a group of independent intellectuals is not an easy
thing; it requires a long process, with actions and reactions, coming

* Compare here the comparison made by Hegel of the particular national forms
assumed by the same culture in France and Germany in the period of the French
Revolution: this Hegelian conception, at the end of a rather long chain, led to
the famous verses of Carducci: ". . . con opposta fe'/Decapitaro, Emmanuel Kant,
Iddioj Massimilian Robespierre, il re". [With opposing faiths/ 1 mmanuel Kant cut off
the head of God/and Maximilian Robespierre, that of the King]. 30

so In the poem Versaglia, w. 50-2 (G. Carducci, Giambi ed Epodi). See also
MS. p. 65, where Gramsci claims that Carducci drew the idea from Heine, but that
it originated earlier, with Hegel ; and the letter to Tatiana Schucht of 30 May 1 932
(LC, p. 629), where he writes: "Thus, in hisLectures onthe History of Philosophy,
he [Hegel] discovered a nexus between the French Revolution and the philosophy
of Kant, Fichte and Schelling."

81 The Italian word here is popolaresco, which is a derivative of popolare
("popular") and does not quite correspond to "populist", e.g. as applied to the
Narodniks, for which the Italian word is populista.

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together and drifting apart and the growth of very numerous and
complex new formations. It is the conception of a subaltern social
group, deprived of historical initiative, in continuous but disorganic
expansion, unable to go beyond a certain qualitative level, which
still remains below the level of the possession of the State and of the
real exercise of hegemony over the whole of society which alone
permits a certain organic equilibrium in the development of the
intellectual group. The philosophy of praxis has itself become
"prejudice" and "superstition". As it stands, it is the popular
aspect of modern historicism, but it contains in itself the principle
through which this historicism can be superseded. In the history of
culture, which is much broader than the history of philosophy, every
time that there has been a flowering of popular culture because a
revolutionary phase was being passed through and because the
metal of a new class was being forged from the ore of the people,
there has been a flowering of "materialism" : conversely, at the same
time the traditional classes clung to philosophies of the spirit. Hegel,
half-way between the French Revolution and the Restoration, gave
dialectical form to the two moments of the life of thought, materialism
and spiritualism, but his synthesis was "a man walking on his head". 32
Hegel's successors destroyed this unity and there was a return to
materialist systems on the one side and spiritualist on the other.
The philosophy of praxis, through its founder, relived all this
experience of Hegelianism, Feuerbachianism and French material-
ism, in order to reconstruct the synthesis of dialectical unity, "the
man walking on his feet". The laceration which happened to
Hegelianism has been repeated with the philosophy of praxis. That
is to say, from dialectical unity there has been a regress to philo-
sophical materialism on the one hand, while on the other hand
modern idealist high culture has tried to incorporate that part of
the philosophy of praxis which was needed in order for it to find a
new elixir.

"Politically" the materialist conception is close to the people, to
"common sense". It is closely linked to many beliefs and prejudices,
to almost all popular superstitions (witchcraft, spirits, etc.). This
can be seen in popular Catholicism, and, even more so, in Byzantine
orthodoxy. Popular religion is crassly materialistic, and yet the

38 The image of the Hegelian dialectic as a man "standing on his head" is
frequent in Marx and Engels (Marx, Afterword to the Second German Edition of
Capital Vol. I, and, earlier, Holy Family VIII, 4: Engels, Ludwig Feuerback, 4), and
is in fact a turning against Hegel of a phrase used by Hegel himself in the Preface
to the Phenomenology of Spirit.

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM

397

official religion of the intellectuals attempts to impede the formation
of two distinct religions, two separate strata, so as not to become
officially, as well as in reality, an ideology of restricted groups.
But from this point of view it is important not to confuse the attitude
of the philosophy of praxis with that of Catholicism. Whereas the
former maintains a dynamic contact and tends continually to raise
new strata of the population to a higher cultural life, the latter
tends to maintain a purely mechanical contact, an external unity
based in particular on the liturgy and on a cult visually imposing
to the crowd. Many heretical movements were manifestations of
popular forces aiming to reform the Church and bring it closer to
the people by exalting them. The reaction of the Church was often
very violent: it has created the Society of Jesus; it has clothed
itself in the protective armour of the Council of Trent; although it
has organised a marvellous mechanism of "democratic" selection of
its intellectuals, they have been selected as single individuals and
not as the representative expression of popular groups.

In the history of cultural developments, it is important to pay
special attention to the organisation of culture and the personnel
through whom this organisation takes concrete form. G. De
Ruggiero's volume on Renaissance and Reformation 33 brings out
the attitude of very many intellectuals, with Erasmus 34 at their
head : they gave way in the face of persecution and the stake. The
bearer of the Reformation was therefore the German people itself in
its totality, as undifferentiated mass, not the intellectuals. It is
precisely this desertion of the intellectuals in the face of the enemy
which explains the "sterility" of the Reformation in the immediate
sphere of high culture, until, by a process of selection, the people,
which remained faithful to the cause, produced a new group of
intellectuals culminating in classical philosophy.

Something similar has happened up to now with the philosophy
of praxis. The great intellectuals formed on the terrain of this
philosophy, besides being few in number, were not linked with the
people, they did not emerge from the people, but were the expression
of traditional intermediary classes, to which they returned at the
great "turning points" of history. Some remained, but rather to
subject the new conception to a systematic revision than to advance

" Guido De Ruggiero, Rinascimento, riforma, coniroriforma, Bari, 1930.

** Erasmus of Rotterdam (1465 1536), Dutch humanist and reformer, shared
with the Lutherans a moral and theological critique of Catholic institutions, but
was not prepared, whether for reasons of principle or personal safety, to commit
himself totally to the reforming camp.

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its autonomous development. The affirmation that the philosophy
is a new, independent and original conception, even though it is
also a moment of world historical development, is an affirmation
of the independence and originality of a new culture in incubation,
which will develop with the development of social relations. What
exists at any given time is a variable combination of old and new, a
momentary equilibrium of cultural relations corresponding to the
equilibrium of social relations. Only after the creation of the new
State does the cultural problem impose itself in all its complexity
and tend towards a coherent solution. In any case the attitude to be
taken up before the formation of the new State can only be critico-
polemical, never dogmatic; it must be a romantic attitude, but of
a romanticism which is consciously aspiring to its classical synthesis.

JVb/e J. One should study the period of the Restoration 35 as the
period of the elaboration of all modern historicist doctrines,
including the philosophy of praxis, which is their crowning point
and which was in any case elaborated just on the eve of 1848,
when Restoration was crumbling on every side and the Holy
Alliance was falling to pieces. It is well known that restoration is
only a metaphorical expression; in reality there was no effective
restoration of the ancien regime, but only a new alignment of forces
through which the revolutionary conquests of the middle classes
were limited and codified. The King in France and the Pope in
Rome became heads of their respective parties and no longer the
unquestioned representatives of France or of Christianity. The
position of the Pope was particularly shaken. In this period begins
the formation of permanent organisms of "militant Catholics",
which, after sundry intermediary stages — 1848-49, 1861, (year of
the first disintegration of the Papal State with the annexation of
the Emilian Legations), 1870 and the post-war period — were to
become the powerful organisation of Catholic Action, powerful
but in a defensive position. The historicist theories of the Restora-
tion opposed the eighteenth century ideologies, abstract and
utopistic, which remain alive as proletarian philosophy, ethics
and politics, particularly widespread in France up to 1870. The
philosophy of praxis was opposed to these eighteenth century
popular conceptions as a mass philosophy, in all their forms,
from the most infantile to that of Proudhon. (Proudhon's con-
ception underwent a certain grafting of conservative historicism,

,6 i.e. the period of European history that goes from the fall of Napoleon and
the Congress of Vienna in 1815 up to the time of the 1848 revolutions.

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM

399

and he can perhaps be called the French Gioberti, 36 but from
the popular classes — Italian history being backward in relation to
French, as can be seen from the period of 1848.) If the conservative
historicists, theorists of the old, are well placed to criticise the
Utopian character of the mummified Jacobin ideologies, philo-
sophers of praxis are better placed to appreciate the real and
not abstract value that Jacobinism had as an element in the
creation of the new French nation (that is to say as a fact of
circumscribed activity in specific circumstances and not as some-
thing ideologised) and are better placed also to appreciate the
historical role of the conservatives themselves, who were in
reality the shame-faced children of the Jacobins, who damned
their excesses while carefully administering their heritage. The
philosophy of praxis not only claimed to explain and to justify-
all the past, but to explain and justify historically itself as well.
That is, it was the greatest form of "historicism", total liberation
from any form of abstract "ideologism", the real conquest of the
historical world, the beginnings of a new civilisation.

Speculative Immanence and Historicist or Realist Immanence

It is affirmed that the philosophy of praxis was born on the terrain
of the highest development of culture in the first half of the nine-
teenth century, this culture being represented by classical German
philosophy, English classical economics and French political
literature and practice. These three cultural movements are at the
origin of the philosophy of praxis. 37 But in what sense is the
affirmation to be understood? That each of these movements has

" Vincenzo Gioberti (1801-52) was a leading moderate during the Risorgi-
mento, and the parallel with Proudhon, which is a favourite one with Gramsci
(see, for example, p. 108 of this volume), is at first sight surprising. As is made
clear however elsewhere (MS. p. 185) the parallel relates to their positions within
the French working-class movement and the "more backward" Italian liberal-
national movement respectively. Within this context Gioberti appears, in a curious
way, as the more radical figure. Whereas in Proudhon the conservative element
gradually comes to take precedence over the Jacobin (to use Granisci's term),
with Gioberti the process is reversed. In his Rinnovamento civile dell'Italia (1851),
written towards the end of his life and just after the abortive revolutions of 1848
and the consequent blood-bath of repression, Gioberti comes to take up position
in favour of a massive renewal of the popular forces in alliance with the liberal
bourgeois intellegentsia, a position far more advanced in relation to its time and
place than Proudhon's hardly dialectical oscillations between Utopian socialism
and acceptance of the bourgeois order.

87 Cf. Lenin's The Three Sources and Three Component Parts (1913) : "The Marxian
doctrine ... is the legitimate successor of the best that was created by humanity
in the nineteenth century in the shape of German philosophy, English political
economy and French socialism."

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contributed respectively to the elaboration of the philosophy, the
economics and the politics of the philosophy of praxis ? Or that the
philosophy of praxis has synthesised the three movements, that is,
the entire culture of the age, and that in the new synthesis, which-
ever "moment" one is examining, the theoretical, the economic, or
the political, one will find each of the three movements present as a
preparatory "moment" ? This is what seems to me to be the case.
And it seems to me that the unitary "moment" of synthesis is to
be identified in the new concept of immanence, which has been
translated from the speculative form, as put forward by classical
German philosophy, into a historicist form with the aid of French
politics and English classical economics.

As far as concerns the substantial identity between German
philosophical language and French political language, see the notes
above. 38 But it seems to me that one of the most interesting and
fecund subjects for research yet to be carried out concerns the
relationship between German philosophy, French politics and
English classical economics. One could say in a sense, I think, that
the philosophy of praxis equals Hegel plus David Ricardo. 39 The

38 See the section Traducibilila dei linguaggi scientifici e filosqfici, MS. pp. 63 71.
David Ricardo (1772 1823), celebrated English political economist much
admired but also severely criticised by Marx, notably in Capital. In the Theories
on Surplus Value Marx sums up the importance of Ricardo's discoveries under two
main heads, the theory that value is determined by labour time and his demonstra-
tion of the economic roots of the class struggle. What interests Gramsci, however,
here and below (p. 412) is less Ricardo's conclusions than his methodological
innovations. But, as he admits in the letter to Tatiana of 30 May 1932 (cited
above: LC. p. 629), he is here following an intuition rather than a certainty, and it
is in fact doubtful whether either the "law of tendency" (see next note) or the
concepts of homo oeconomicus (economic man) and "determined market" should
properly be attributed to Ricardo at all. As far as the latter concepts are con-
cerned, it seems better to situate them, as Gramsci implicitly does on other occasions
(in his Noterelle di economia, MS. pp. 259-83), in the context of the debate between
"critical" (i.e. Marxist) economy and the "pure" economics of the turn of the
century. On MS. p. 266 Gramsci defines economic man as "the abstraction of the
economic activity of a particular form of society, that is of a particular economic
structure", and he goes on to say (MS. p. 267) : "it can be said that such an
abstraction is by no means necessarily extra-historical and is by no means of the
same nature as economic abstractions. Homo oeconomicus is the abstraction of the
needs and of the economic operations of a particular form of society, just as the
ensemble of hypotheses put forward by economists in their scientific work is nothing
other than the ensemble of premisses that are at the base of a particular form of
society." And on "determined market" [mercato determinato) (MS. p. 269) : "Deter-
mined market in pure economics is an arbitrary abstraction, which has a purely
conventional value for the purposes of a pedantic and scholastic analysis. For
critical economy on the other hand it should be the ensemble of the concrete
economic activities of a determined social form, activities subsumed according to
their laws of uniformity which are abstract laws but not such that the abstraction
ceases to be historically determined."

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM

40I

problem should be presented thus at the outset: are the new
methodological canons introduced by Ricardo in the science of
economics to be considered as merely instrumental values (alter-
natively as a new chapter of formal logic), or do they have a
significance as a philosophical innovation? The discovery of the
formal logical principle of the "law of tendency" 40 which leads to
the scientific definition of the fundamental economic concepts of
homo oeconomicus and of the "determined market", was this not also
a discovery of epistemological value as well ? Does it not precisely
imply a new "immanence", a new conception of "necessity" and
of freedom, etc. ? Translation into these terms seems to me precisely
the achievement of the philosophy of praxis, which has universalised
Ricardo's discoveries, extending them in an adequate fashion to the
whole of history and thus drawing from them, in an original form,
a new conception of the world.

A whole series of questions will have to be studied :

1. to summarise Ricardo's formal scientific principles in their
form of empirical canons.

2. to look for the historical origin of these Ricardian principles,
which are connected with the rise of economic science itself, that is,
to the development of the bourgeoisie as a "concrete world class"
and to the subsequent formation of a world market which was
already sufficiently "dense" in complex movements for it to be
possible to isolate and study necessary laws of regularity. (It should
be said that these are laws of tendency which are not laws in the
naturalistic sense or that of speculative determinism, but in a
"historicist" sense, valid, that is, to the extent that there exists the
"determined market" or in other words an environment which is
organically alive and interconnected in its movements of develop-
ment. Economics studies these laws of tendency in so far as they are
quantitative expressions of phenomena; in the passage from
economics to general history the concept of quantity is integrated
with that of quality and of the dialectic quality-that-becomes-
quality).*

40 For Gramsci's analysis of laws of tendency as having "a real 'historical'
and not just a methodological character", see his note on the Tendency of the
Rate of Profit to Fall on MS. pp. 211 15. Here Gramsci also criticises Croce
for giving an "absolute" rather than a dialectical historical value to the law a
criticism which, curiously, parallels Marx's criticism of Ricardo in Capital (III, 15).
See too note 3 on p . 280.

* Quantity Necessity : Quality Freedom. The dialectic (the dialectical nexus) of
Quantity Quality is identical with that of necessity freedom.

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3. to establish the connection of Ricardo with Hegel and Robes-
pierre.

4. to consider how the philosophy of praxis has arrived, from the
synthesis of the three living currents to the new conception of
immanence, purified of any trace of transcendence and theology.

Alongside the research outlined above must be put that concerning
the attitude of the philosophy of praxis towards the contemporary
continuations of classical German philosophy as represented by the
modern Italian idealist philosophy of Croce and Gentile. How are
we to understand Engels' proposition on the inheritance of classical
German philosophy? 41 Is it to be understood as a historical circle
already completed, in which the vital part of Hegelianism has
already been definitively absorbed once and for all; or should it
rather be understood as a historical process still in motion in which
the necessity for a philosophical cultural synthesis is being renewed ?
To me the second answer seems correct. In reality the reciprocally
unilateral position contrasting materialism and idealism, criticised
in the first thesis on Feuerbach, 42 is being repeated, and now, as
then, though at a more advanced moment of history, a synthesis
remains necessary at a higher level of development of the philosophy
of praxis.

Unity in the Constituent Elements of Marxism

Unity is given by the dialectical development of the contradictions
between man and matter (nature — material forces of production).
In economics the unitary centre is value, alias the relationship
between the worker and the industrial productive forces (those who
deny the theory fall into crass vulgar materialism by posing machines
in themselves — as constant and technical capital — as producers of
value independent of the man who runs them). In philosophy [it

€1 In his Ludirig Feuerbach. See note 1 on p. 381.

42 Karl Marx, Theses on Feuerbach: "The chief defect of all hitherto existing
materialism including that of Feuerbach is that the thing, reality, sensuousness,
is grasped only under the form of the object or of contemplation; but not as human
sensuous activity, as praxis, not subjectively. Thus it happened that the active side,
rather than by materialism, was developed by idealism but only abstractly
since naturally idealism does not know real, sensuous activity as such. Feuerbach
wants sensuous objects, really distinct from the objects of thought; but he does
not grasp human activity itself as objective activity. Therefore, in his Essence of
Christianity, he regards the theoretical attitude as the only genuine human attitude,
while praxis is conceived and fixed only in its dirty-judaical manifestation. He
therefore does not grasp the meaning of 'revolutionary', 'practico-critical'
activity."

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM

403

is] praxis, that is, the relationship between human will (super-
structure) and economic structure. In politics [it is] the relationship
between the State and civil society, that is, the intervention of the
State (centralised will) to educate the educator, the social environ-
ment in general. (Question to be gone into in depth and stated in
more exact terms.)

Philosophy — Politics — Economics

If these three activities are the necessary constituent elements of
the same conception of the world, there must necessarily be, in their
theoretical principles, a convertibility from one to the others and a
reciprocal translation into the specific language proper to each
constituent element. Any one is implicit in the others, and the three
together form a homogeneous circle.*

From these propositions (still in need of elaboration) there derive
for the historian of culture and of ideas a number of research
criteria and critical canons of great significance. It can be that a
great personality expresses the more fecund aspects of his thought
not in the section which, or so it would appear from the point of
view of external classification, ought to be the most logical, but
elsewhere, in a part which apparently could be judged extraneous.
A man of politics writes about philosophy: it could be that his
"true" philosophy should be looked for rather in his writings on
politics. In every personality there is one dominant and pre-
dominant activity: it is here that his thought must be looked for,
in a form that is more often than not implicit and at times even in
contradiction with what is professly expressed. Admittedly such a
criterion of historical judgment contains many dangers of dilet-
tantism and it is necessary to be very cautious in applying it, but
that does not deprive it of its capacity to generate truth.

In reality the occasional "philosopher" can succeed only with
difficulty in making abstractions from the currents dominant in his
age and from interpretations of a certain conception of the world
that have become dogmatic (etc.). As a scientist of politics on the
other hand he feels himself free from these idols of his age and of his
group and treats the same conception with more immediacy and
with total originality; he penetrates to its heart and develops it in
a vital way. Here again the thought expressed by [Rosa] Luxemburg
remains useful and suggestive when she writes about the impossibility

* Compare the notes above on the reciprocal translatability of scientific
languages. [MS. pp. 63-67]

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of treating certain questions of the philosophy of praxis in so far as
they have not yet become actual for the course of history in general
or that of a given social grouping. To the economico-corporate
phase, to the phase of struggle for hegemony in civil society and to
the phase of State power there correspond specific intellectual
activities which cannot be arbitrarily improvised or anticipated. In
the phase of struggle for hegemony it is the science of politics
which is developed; in the State phase all the superstructures must
be developed, if one is not to risk the dissolution of the State.

Historicity of the Philosophy of Praxis

That the philosophy of praxis thinks of itself in a historicist manner,
that is, as a transitory phase of philosophical thought, is not only
implicit in its entire system, but is made quite explicit in the well-
known thesis that historical development will at a certain point be
characterised by the passage from the reign of necessity to the
reign of freedom. 43 All hitherto existing philosophies (philosophical
systems) have been manifestations of the intimate contradictions by
which society is lacerated. But each philosophical system taken by
itself has not been the conscious expression of these contradictions,
since this expression could be provided only by the ensemble of
systems in conflict with each other. Every philosopher is, and cannot
but be, convinced that he expresses the unity of the human spirit,
that is, the unity of history and nature. Indeed, if such a conviction
did not exist, men would not act, they would not create new history,
philosophies would not become ideologies and would not in practice
assume the fanatical granite compactness of the "popular beliefs"
which assume the same energy as "material forces". 44

In the history of philosophical thought Hegel represents a chapter
on his own, since in his system, in one way of another, even in the
form of a "philosophical romance", one manages to understand
what reality is. That is to say, one finds, in a single system and in a
single philosopher, that consciousness of contradictions which one
previously acquired from the ensemble of systems and of philosophers
in polemic and contradiction with each other.

In a sense, moreover, the philosophy of praxis is a reform and a
development of Hegelianism; it is a philosophy that has been
liberated (or is attempting to liberate itself) from any unilateral

43 See note 59 on p. 367.

44 In Marx's Critique of Hegel's Philosophy of Right — Introduction.

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM 4.05

and fanatical ideological elements; it is consciousness full of con-
tradictions, in which the philosopher himself, understood both
individually and as an entire social group, not only grasps the
contradictions, but posits himself as an element of the contradiction
and elevates this element to a principle of knowledge and therefore
of action. "Man in general", in whatever form he presents himself,
is denied and all dogmatically "unitary" concepts are spurned and
destroyed as expressions of the concept of "man in general" or of
"human nature" immanent in every man.

But even the philosophy of praxis is an expression of historical
contradictions, and indeed their most complete, because most
conscious, expression; this means that it too is tied to "necessity"
and not to a "freedom" which does not exist and, historically,
cannot yet exist. If, therefore, it is demonstrated that contradictions
will disappear, it is also demonstrated implicitly that the philosophy
of praxis too will disappear, or be superseded. In the reign of
"freedom" thought and ideas can no longer be born on the terrain
of contradictions and the necessity of struggle. At the present time
the philosopher — the philosopher of praxis — can only make this
generic affirmation and can go no further; he cannot escape from
the present field of contradictions, he cannot affirm, other than
generically, a world without contradictions, without immediately
creating a Utopia.

This is not to say that Utopia cannot have a philosophical value,
for it has a political value and every politics is implicitly a philo-
sophy, even if disconnected and crudely sketched. In this sense
religion is the most gigantic Utopia, that is the most gigantic "meta-
physics", that history has ever known, since it is the most grandiose
attempt to reconcile, in mythological form, the real contradictions
of historical life. It affirms, in fact, that mankind has the same
"nature", that man in general exists, in so far as created by God,
son of God, therefore brother of other men, equal to other men, and
free amongst and as other men; and that he can conceive of himself
as such, mirrored in God, who is the "self-consciousness" of humanity ;
but it also affirms that all this is not of this world, but of another
(the Utopia). Thus do ideas of equality, fraternity and liberty
ferment among men, among those strata of mankind who do not
see themselves as equals nor as brothers of other men, nor as free
in relation to them. Thus it has come about that in every radical
stirring of the multitude, in one way or another, with particular
forms and particular ideologies, these demands have always been
raised.

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At this point one can insert an element proposed by Vilich
[Lenin]. The April 1917 programme, 45 in the section devoted to
the common school, 46 and more exactly in the explanatory note to
that section (see the Geneva edition of 1918) refers to the chemist
and educationalist Lavoisier, 47 guillotined under the Terror, who
had put forward the concept of the common school, and had done
so in accord with the popular sentiments of his age, which saw in
the democratic movement of 1 789 a developing reality and not just
an ideology used as an instrument of government and which drew
from this concrete egalitarian consequences. In Lavoisier this was
still a Utopian element (an element which crops up more or less
in all cultural currents that presuppose the singleness of human
"nature"), whereas for Vilich it had the demonstrative-theoretical
significance of a political principle.

If the philosophy of praxis affirms theoretically that every "truth"
believed to be eternal and absolute has had practical origins and has
represented a "provisional" value (historicity of every conception of
the world and of life), it is still very difficult to make people grasp
"practically" that such an interpretation is valid also for the
philosophy of praxis itself, without in so doing shaking the convictions
that are necessary for action. This is, moreover, a difficulty that
recurs for every historicist philosophy; it is taken advantage of by
cheap polemicists (particularly Catholics) in order to contrast
within the same individual the "scientist" and the "demagogue",
the philosopher and the man of action, and to deduce that historicism
leads necessarily to moral scepticism and depravity. From this
difficulty arise many dramas of conscience in little men, and in
great men the "Olympian" attitude a la Goethe. This is the reason
why the proposition about the passage from the reign of necessity
to that of freedom must be analysed and elaborated with subtlety
and delicacy.

As a result even the philosophy of praxis tends to become an

46 See the Draft of the Revised Party Programme, prepared by Lenin in April-May
1917, §14: "Free and compulsory general and polytechnical education ... for
all children of both sexes up to the age of sixteen: training of children to be closely
integrated with socially productive work." Explanatory notes to the draft were
prepared by N. Krupskaya and presumably published, but we have been unable
to trace a copy.

16 Scuola unitaria.

47 Antoine-Laurent Lavoisier (1743 94), French chemist, described by Engels
as "the first to place all chemistry, which in its phlogistic form had stood on its
head, squarely on its feet". Lavoisier was executed, not for his ideas, but because
in order to finance his experiments he had obtained the hated post of fermier-
general of taxes.

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM

407

ideology in the worst sense of the word, that is to say a dogmatic
system of eternal and absolute truths. This is particularly true when,
as happens in the "Popular Manual", 48 it is confused with vulgar
materialism, with its metaphysics of "matter" which is necessarily
eternal and absolute.

It is also worth saying that the passage from necessity to freedom
takes place through the society of men and not through nature
(although it may have effects on our intuition of nature, on scientific
opinions, etc.). One can go so far as to affirm that, whereas the
whole system of the philosophy of praxis may fall away in a unified
world, many idealist conceptions, or at least certain aspects of
them which are Utopian during the reign of necessity, could become
"truth" after the passage. One cannot talk of the "spirit" when
society is divided into groups without necessarily concluding that
this "spirit" is just "esprit de corps" I (This fact is implicitly recognised
when it is said, as is done by Gentile in his book on modernism,*
following Schopenhauer, that religion is the philosophy of the
multitude, whereas philosophy is the religion of the elect, that is of
the great intellectuals.) But it will be possible to talk in these terms
after the unification has taken place (etc.).

Economy and Ideology

The claim, presented as an essential postulate of historical
materialism, that every fluctuation of politics and ideology can be
presented and expounded as an immediate expression of the
structure, must be contested in theory as primitive infantilism, and
combated in practice with the authentic testimony of Marx, the
author of concrete political and historical works. Particularly
important from this point of view are The 18th Brumaire and the
writings on the Eastern Question, but also other writings {Revolution
and Counter-Revolution in Germany, The Civil War in France and lesser
works) . An analysis of these works allows one to establish better the
Marxist historical methodology, integrating, illuminating and
interpreting the theoretical affirmations scattered throughout his
works.

One will be able to see from this the real precautions introduced
by Marx into his concrete researches, precautions which could have

48 N. Bukharin, The Theory of Historical Materialism. A Popular Manual of Marxist
Sociology. See introduction to this section, p. 378.

* G. Gentile, // modemismo e i rapporlitrareligione e filosofa, Bari, Laterza, 1909.

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no place in his general works.* Among these precautions the
following examples can be enumerated:

1 . The difficulty of identifying at any given time, statically (like
an instantaneous photographic image) the structure. Politics in fact
is at any given time the reflection of the tendencies of development
in the structure, but it is not necessarily the case that these tendencies
must be realised. A structural phase can be concretely studied
and analysed only after it has gone through its whole process of
development, and not during the process itself, except hypotheti-
cally and with the explicit proviso that one is dealing with
hypotheses.

2. From this it can be deduced that a particular political act may
have been an error of calculation on the part of the leaders [dirigenti]
of the dominant classes, an error which historical development,
through the parliamentary and governmental "crises" of the
directive [dirigenti] classes, then corrects and goes beyond. Mech-
anical historical materialism does not allow for the possibility of
error, but assumes that every political act is determined, immediately,
by the structure, and therefore as a real and permanent (in the
sense of achieved) modification of the structure. The principle of
"error" is a complex one: one may be dealing with an individual
impulse based on mistaken calculations or equally it may be a
manifestation of the attempts of specific groups or sects to take over
hegemony within the directive grouping, attempts which may well
be unsuccessful.

3. It is not sufficiently borne in mind that many political acts are
due to internal necessities of an organisational character, that is
they are tied to the need to give coherence to a party, a group, a
society. This is made clear for example in the history of the Catholic
Church. If, for every ideological struggle within the Church one
wanted to find an immediate primary explanation in the structure
one would really be caught napping : all sorts of politico-economic
romances have been written for this reason. It is evident on the
contrary that the majority of these discussions are connected with
sectarian and organisational necessities. In the discussion between

* They could have a place only in a systematic and methodical exposition such
as that of Bernheim," and Bernheim's book can be held up as a "model" for a
scholastic or "popular manual" of historical materialism, in which, apart from
the philological and scholarly method (which Bernheim holds to as a matter of
principle, although in his treatment there is implicit a conception of the world)
the Marxist conception of history should be explicitly treated.
" E. Bernheim, Lehrbuch der historischen Methode, considered in more detail by
Gramsci on p. 415.

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM 409

Rome and Byzantium on the Procession of the Holy Spirit, 50 ti
would be ridiculous to look in the structure of the European East
for the claim that it proceeds only from the Father, and in that of
the West for the claim that it proceeds from the Father and the
Son. The two Churches, whose existence and whose conflict is
dependent on the structure and on the whole of history, posed
questions which are principles of distinction and internal cohesion
for each side, but it could have happened that either of the Churches
could have argued what in fact was argued by the other. The
principle of distinction and conflict would have been upheld all the
same, and it is this problem of distinction and conflict that con-
stitutes the historical problem, and not the banner that happened
to be hoisted by one side or the other.

Note II. The author of ideological serial stories in Problemi del
Lavoro (who must be none other than the notorious Franz Weiss) ,
during his farcical fairy tale "Russian dumping and its historical
significance", speaking about precisely these controversies in early
Christian times, asserts that they are tied to the immediate
material conditions of the age, and that if we do not succeed in
identifying this immediate link it is because the facts are so
distant from us or because of some other intellectual weakness.
The position is a convenient one, but scientifically insignificant.
In fact every real historical phase leaves traces of itself in succeed-
ing phases, which then become in a sense the best document of
its existence. The process of historical development is a unity in
time through which the present contains the whole of the past
and in the present is realised that part of the past which is
"essential" — with no residue of any "unknowable" representing
the true "essence". The part which is lost, i.e. not transmitted
dialectically in the historical process, was in itself of no import,
casual and contingent "dross", chronicle and not history, a
superficial and negligible episode in the last analysis.

Moral Science and Historical Materialism

The scientific base for a morality of historical materialism is to be
looked for, in my opinion, in the affirmation that "society does not

60 This debate, which lasted until the fifteenth century, centred around the
so-called filioque clause in the Creed, in other words the argument whether the
Holy Spirit proceeds "from the Father and from the Son" (patre Jilioque) as the
Western Church maintained, or, as the Byzantines held, only from the Father.

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pose for itself tasks the conditions for whose resolution do not
already exist". 51 Where these conditions exist "the solution of the
tasks becomes 'duty', 'will' becomes free". 62 Morality would then
become a search for the conditions necessary for the freedom of the
will in a certain sense, aimed at a certain end, and the demonstra-
tion that these conditions exist. It should be a question also not of a
hierarchy of ends but of a gradation of the ends to be attained,
granted that what one wants to "moralise" is not just each individual
taken singly but also a whole society of individuals.

Regularity and Necessity

How did the founder of the philosophy of praxis arrive at the
concept of regularity and necessity in historical development? I do
not think that it can be thought of as a derivation from natural
science but rather as an elaboration of concepts bom on the terrain
of political economy, particularly in the form and with the method-
ology that economic science acquired from David Ricardo. Concept
and fact of determined market: i.e. the scientific discovery that
specific decisive and permanent forces have risen historically and
that the operation of these forces presents itself with a certain
"automatism" which allows a measure of "predictability" and
certainty for the future of those individual initiatives which accept
these forces after having discerned and scientifically established
their nature. "Determined market" is therefore equivalent to
"determined relation of social forces in a determined structure of
the productive apparatus", this relationship being guaranteed (that
is, rendered permanent) by a determined political, moral and
juridical superstructure. After having established the character of
these decisive and permanent forces and their spontaneous auto-
matism (i.e. their relative independence from individual choices and
from arbitrary government interventions), the scientist has, by way
of hypothesis, rendered the automatism absolute; he has isolated
the merely economic facts from the combinations of varying
importance in which they present themselves in reality; he has
established relations of cause and effect, of premisses and con-
clusions; and he has thus produced an abstract scheme of a deter-
mined economic society. (On this realistic and concrete scientific
construct there has subsequently been imposed a new, more

u Karl Marx, Preface to A Contribution to the Critique of Political Economy. See
note 60 on p. 367.

** This phrase, which is somewhat obscure, is perhaps best taken as a gloss
on the above quotation from the Preface to the Contribution.

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM

411

generalised abstraction of "man" as such, "historical" and generic,
and it is this abstraction that has come to be seen as "true" economic
science.) 53

Given these conditions in which classical economics was born, in
order to be able to talk about a new science or a new conception of
economic science (which is the same thing), it would be necessary
to have demonstrated that new relations of forces, new conditions,
new premisses, have been establishing themselves, in other words
that a new market has been "determined" with a new "automatism"
and phenomenism of its own, which present themselves as something
"objective", comparable to the automatism of natural phenomena.
Classical economics has given rise to a "critique of political economy"
but it does not seem to me that a new science or a new conception
of the scientific problem has yet been possible. The "critique" of
political economy 54 starts from the concept of the historical character
of the "determined market" and of its "automatism", whereas pure
economists conceive of these elements as "eternal" and "natural";
the critique analyses in a realistic way the relations of forces deter-
ming the market, it analyses in depth their contradictions, evaluates
the possibilities of modification connected with the appearance and
strengthening of new elements and puts forward the "transitory"
and "replaceable" nature of the science being criticised; it studies
it as life but also as death and finds at its heart the elements that
will dissolve it and supersede it without fail, and it puts forward
the "inheritor", the heir presumptive who must yet give manifest
proof of his vitality (etc.).

It is true that in modern economic life the "arbitrary" element,
whether at individual, consortium or State level, has acquired an
importance it previously did not have and has profoundly disturbed
the traditional automatism: but this fact is not sufficient in itself

M This abstraction is also referred to by Gramsci as the concept of homo
oeconomiats or economic man. See note 39 on p. 400.

64 "Critique of Political Economy" (Kritik der politischen Okonomie) was, as is
well known, the title or sub-title given by Marx to all his major economic writings
from the Grundrisse onwards, and Gramsci also uses the phrase "Critical Economy"
as a euphemism for Capital. The opposition between "pure" and "critical"
economy, however, tends to occur in the Quademi in relation to a later debate,
between Marxists and modern bourgeois economists. What is not clear in this
passage is whether Gramsci is referring directly to Marx and to Capital or to
Marxist economics in general. The problem is further aggravated by the fact
Gramsci is applying his own set of concepts and criteria (in part suggested to
him by Croce), which though interesting in their own right do not respect the
historical order of the development of economic thought and are based on a rather
summary knowledge of Marx's economic writings and in particular of Capital
itself.

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to justify the conception of new scientific problems, precisely
because these interventions are arbitrary, vary in scale, and are
unpredictable. It could justify the affirmation that economic life
has been modified, that there is a "crisis", but this is obvious.
Besides, it is not claimed that the old "automatism" has disappeared;
it only asserts itself on a scale larger than before, at the level of major
economic phenomena, while individual facts have "gone wild".

It is from these considerations that one must start in order to
establish what is meant by "regularity", "law", "automatism" in
historical facts. It is not a question of "discovering" a metaphysical
law of "determinism", or even of establishing a "general" law of
causality. It is a question of bringing out how in historical evolution
relatively permanent forces are constituted which operate with a
certain regularity and automatism. Even the law of large numbers, 55
although very useful as a model of comparison, cannot be assumed
as the "law" of historical events. In order to establish the historical
origin of the philosophy of praxis (an element which is nothing less
than its particular way of conceiving "immanence"), it will be
necessary to study the conception of economic laws put forward
by David Ricardo. It is a matter of realising that Ricardo was
important in the foundation of the philosophy of praxis not only
for the concept of "value" in economics, but was also "philo-
sophically" important and has suggested a way of thinking and
intuiting history and life. The method of "supposing that . . .",
of the premiss that gives a certain conclusion, should it seems to
me, be identified as one of the starting points (one of the intellectual
stimuli) of the philosophical experience of the founders of the
philosophy of praxis. It is worth finding out if Ricardo has ever
been studied from this point of view.*

It would appear that the concept of "necessity" in history is
closely connected to that of "regularity" and "rationality". "Neces-
sity" in the "speculative-abstract" and in the "historical-concrete"
sense: necessity exists when there exists an efficient and active

" The law of large numbers is a statistical theorem broadly to the effect that
the greater the number of samples the more likely they are to average out to the
mean of the "population" from which they are drawn. In economics this means
that the random variations of individual cases will tend "on average" to express
the underlying law.

* One should also consider in this light the philosophical concept of "chance"
and "law" : the concept of a "rationality" or "providence" through which one
ends up in transcendental, if not transcendent, teleologism; and that of "chance",
as in the metaphysical materialism that "ascribes the world to chance". 56

" The phrase comes from Dante's description (Inferno IV, 136) of the Ancient
Greek materialist philosopher Democritus "che il mondo a caso pone".

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM 413

premiss, consciousness of which in people's minds has become
operative, proposing concrete goals to the collective consciousness
and constituting a complex of convictions and beliefs which acts
powerfully in the form of "popular beliefs". In the premiss must be
contained, already developed or in the process of development, the
necessary and sufficient material conditions for the realisation of
the impulse of collective will; but it is also clear that one cannot
separate from this "material" premiss, which can be quantified, a
certain level of culture, by which we mean a complex of intellectual
acts and, as a product and consequence of these, a certain complex
of overriding passions and feelings, overriding in the sense that they
have the power to lead men on to action "at any price".

As we have said, this is the only way through which one can
reach a historicist and not speculative-abstract conception of
"rationality" (and therefore irrationality) in history.

Concepts of "providence" and "fortune", in the sense in which
they are employed (speculatively) by Italian idealist philosophers
and particularly Croce: one should look at Croce's book on
Giambattista Vico, 57 in which the concept of "providence" is
translated into speculative terms and in which is to be found the
beginnings of the idealist interpretation of Vico's philosophy. For
the meaning of "fortune" in Machiavelli, one should look at Luigi
Russo's writings. 58 According to Russo, "fortune" has a double
meaning for Machiavelli, objective and subjective. "Fortune" is
the natural force of circumstances (i.e. the causal nexus) the chance
concurrence of events, what providence is in the works of Vico; it
can also be that transcendent power (i.e. God) mythologised in
old mediaeval doctrine, but for Machiavelli this is then nothing
other than individual "virtu" 59 itself and its power is rooted in

" La fibsofia di Giambattista Vico, first published 191 1: Vol. II, 2 of Collected
Works.

*• Gramsci refers in a footnote at this point to a note on p. 23 of Russo's
edition of The Prince (Florence, 1931). Most of the paragraph which follows is
in fact a close paraphrase or quotation from this note of Russo's. Russo's other
writings on Machiavelli, including the introduction to his edition (but not the
commentary, from which this quotation is taken) , have been published in volume
form (Florence, 1945).

" Literally "virtue", but in connection with Machiavelli better rendered by
a word without moral overtones, such as "prowess". In The Prince Machiavelli
sets up an opposition between fortuna (roughly — "circumstance") and virtu — the
ability of the individual to act on and overcome the given world of circumstance.
In Latin virtus meant an inherent quality such as (for example and in particular)
military valour: Machiavelli tends to make it rather a quality of the will. The
moral sense of the English word "virtue" evolved through an intermediary phase
in Stoic and Early Christian thought where it meant "inner strength" and hence
the ability to act well.

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man's will. Machiavelli's "virtu", as Russo puts it, is no longer the
virtus of the scholastics, which has an ethical character and takes
its power from heaven, nor that of Livy, which generally means
military valour, but it is the virtu of Renaissance man, which is
capacity, ability, industriousness, individual strength, sensibility,
intuition of opportunity and a measure of one's own possibilities.

After this Russo vacillates in his analysis. For him the concept
of fortune, as force of circumstances, which in Machiavelli as in the
Renaissance humanists still retains a naturalistic and mechanical
character, will beome truth and deepened historical perception only
in the rational providence of Vico and Hegel. But it is important to
point out that such concepts in Machiavelli never have a meta-
physical character, as they do in the philosophers proper of
humanism, but are simple and profound intuitions (and therefore
philosophy!) of life, and are to be understood and explained as
symbols of sentiments.*

A repertory of the Philosophy of Praxis

An extremely useful thing would be a critical inventory of all the
questions that have been raised and discussed in connection with
the philosophy of praxis, together with full critical bibliographies.
The material for such a specialised, encyclopaedic work is so
extensive, so disparate, so varied in quality and in so many languages
that only an editorial committee would be able to prepare it
within a reasonable length of time. But the usefulness that a com-
pilation of this type would have would be of tremendous importance
both in the scientific field, in that of education and among inde-
pendent scholars. It would become an instrument of prime impor-
tance for the dissemination of the study of the philosophy of praxis
and for its consolidation into a scientific discipline. It would mark a
definite split between two epochs, a modern age and the previous
period of elementary fumblings, parrot-like repetitions and journal-
istic amateurism.

In order to set up the project one would have to study all the
material of the same type published by the Catholics, in various
countries, in relation to the Bible, the Gospels, the Early Fathers,
the Liturgy and Apologetics, great specialised encyclopaedias of

* On the gradual metaphysical formation of these concepts, for the pre-
Machiavellian period, Russo refers to Gentile, Giordano Bruno e il pensiero del
Rinascimento (Chapter on "II concetto delVuomo net Rinaicimento" and appendix),
Florence, Vallecchi. For these concepts in Machiavelli, see F. Ercole, La Politica
di Machiavelli [Rome 1920].

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM 415

uneven value which are continually being published and which
maintain the ideological unity of the hundreds of thousands of
priests and other cadres [dirigenti] who provide the framework and
the strength of the Catholic Church. (For the bibliography of the
philosophy of praxis in Germany one should look at the compila-
tions of Ernest Drahn, mentioned by Drahn himself in his intro-
duction to numbers 6068-6069 of the Reklam Universal Bibliothek.)

One would have to do for the philosophy of praxis something
similar to the work Bernheim did for the historical method.* Bern-
heim's book is not a treatise on the philosophy of historicism, bnt
it is implicitly linked to that. A so-called "sociology of the philosophy
of praxis" should stand in the same relation to the philosophy
itself as Bernheim's book does to historicism in general. In other
words it should be a systematic exposition of practical canons of
research and interpretation of history — and politics; a collection of
immediate criteria, of critical precautions, etc., a philology of
history and politics as they are conceived by the philosophy of
praxis. It would also, in certain ways, be useful to prepare a critique
of a number of tendencies within the philosophy of praxis, ten-
dencies which because of their sheer crudeness would probably
prove among the most widespread. This would take the same form
as the critique that modern historicism has made of the old historical
method and old-fashioned philology, which have led to the growth
of naive forms of dogmatism and replaced interpretations and
historical construction with external description and the cataloguing
of unevaluated sources put together often in a disordered and
incoherent way. The strength of these publications consisted for
the most part of a kind of dogmatic mysticism which had grown
up and become popularised and which expressed itself in the
unjustified claim to be followers of the historical method and of
science.*

The Founders of the Philosophy of Praxis and Italy

A systematic collection of all the writings (including letters) [of
Marx and Engels] that concern Italy or treat of Italian problems.
But a collection that limited itself to a choice of this kind would

* E. Bernheim. Lehrbuch tier Historischen Methods, 6th Edition, 1908. Leipzig,
Dunker and Humblot. Translated into Italian and published by Sandron, Palermo
[Partial translation only].

* On this question see some of the observations made elsewhere in the series
Riviste Tipo and those concerning the "Dizionario Critico". 69

•° See Int., pp. 137-43.

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not be organic and properly complete. There are writings of these
authors which, although they do not concern themselves specifically
with Italy, nonetheless have a significance for Italy (and not just a
generic significance, needless to add, for in that case one could
claim that all their works were relevant to Italy). The plan of the
collection could be designed according to the following criteria :

1. writings with specific reference to Italy;

2. writings on "specific" arguments of historical and political
criticism which, although not referring to Italy have a relevance to
Italian problems. Examples : the article on the Spanish Constitution
of 1 812 has a relevance to Italy because of the political function
that this constitution had in Italian political movements up to 1 848.
Similarly the critique in The Poverty of Philosophy against the falsifica-
tion of Hegelian dialectics made by Proudhon is also relevant to
Italy in that this falsification finds its reflection in corresponding
Italian intellectual movements (Gioberti, the Hegelianism of the
Moderates, concept of passive revolution, dialectic revolution/
restoration). The same could be said of Engels' writings on the
Spanish libertarian movements of 1873 (after the abdication of
Amadeus of Savoy), again relevant to Italy, etc. For this second
series of writings there is no need perhaps to produce a collection,
but just to offer a critico-analytical exposition. Perhaps the most
organic plan might be one in three parts:

1. historico-critical introduction;

2. writings on Italy;

3. analysis of writings indirectly relevant to Italy — i.e. those
which set out to resolve questions which are essential and specific
for Italy as well.

Hegemony of Western Culture over the whole World Culture

1 . Even if one admits that other cultures have had an importance
and a significance in the process of "hierarchical" unification of
world civilisation (and this should certainly be admitted without
question), they have had a universal value only in so far as they
have become constituent elements of European culture, which is
the only historically and concretely universal culture — in so far,
that is, as they have contributed to the process of European thought
and been assimilated by it.

2. However, even European culture has undergone a process of
unification and, in the historical moment that interests us, this has
culminated in Hegel and the critique of Hegelianism.

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM 417

3. It emerges from these two points that we are dealing with the
cultural process that is personified in the intellectuals; one should
not talk about popular cultures in this connection, since with regard
to these one cannot speak of critical elaboration and process of
development.

4. Nor is one speaking here of those cultural processes which
culminate in real activity, such as that which took place in France
in the eighteenth century: or rather one should speak of them only
in connection with the process that culminated in Hegel and in
classical German philosophy, using them as a "practical" con-
firmation (in the sense referred to frequently elsewhere) 61 of the
reciprocal translatability of the two processes; one, the French,
political and juridical, the other, German, theoretical and
speculative.

5. From the disintegration of Hegelianism derives the beginning
of a new cultural process, different in character from its predecessors,
a process in which practical movement and theoretical thought are
united (or are trying to unite through a struggle that is both
theoretical and practical).

6. It is not important that this movement had its origins in
mediocre philosophical works, or at best, in works that were not
philosophical masterpieces. What matters is that a new way of
conceiving the world and man is born and that this conception is
no longer reserved to the great intellectuals, to professional philoso-
phers, but tends rather to become a popular, mass phenomenon,
with a concretely world-wide character, capable of modifying (even
if the result includes hybrid combinations) popular thought and
mummified popular culture.

7. One should not be surprised if this beginning arises from the
convergence of various elements, apparently heterogenous — Feuer-
bach, in his role as a critic of Hegel, the Tubingen school as an
affirmation of the historical and philosophical critique of religion,
etc. Indeed it is worth nothing that such an overthrow could not
but have connections with religion.

8. The philosophy of praxis as the result and the crowning point
of all previous history. Out of the critique of Hegelianism arose
modern idealism and the philosophy of praxis. Hegelian immanen-
tism becomes historicism, but it is absolute historicism only with
the philosophy of praxis — absolute historicism or absolute humanism.
(Ambiguity of atheism and of deism in many modern idealist

See MS. pp. 63-71, etc. See also p. 400 above.

GRAMSGi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

philosophers : it is clear that atheism is a purely negative and sterile
form, unless it is to be conceived as a period of pure popular
literary polemic.)

Passage from Knowing to Understanding and to Feeling and vice versa from
Feeling to Understanding and to Knowing

The popular element "feels" but does not always know or under-
stand; the intellectual element "knows" but does not always under-
stand and in particular does not always feel. The two extremes are
therefore pedantry and philistinism on the one hand and blind
passion and sectarianism on the other. Not that the pedant cannot
be impassioned; far from it. Impassioned pedantry is every bit as
ridiculous and dangerous as the wildest sectarianism and demagogy.
The intellectual's error consists in believing that one can know
without understanding and even more without feeling and being
impassioned (not only for knowledge in itself but also for the object
of knowledge) : in other words that the intellectual can be an
intellectual (and not a pure pedant) if distinct and separate from
the people-nation, that is, without feeling the elementary passions
of the people, understanding them and therefore explaining and
justifying them in the particular historical situation and connecting
them dialectically to the laws of history and to a superior conception
of the world, scientifically and coherently elaborated — i.e. know-
ledge. One cannot make politics-history without this passion, without
this sentimental connection between intellectuals and people-nation.
In the absence of such a nexus the relations between the intellectual
and the people-nation are, or are reduced to, relationships of a
purely bureaucratic and formal order; the intellectuals become a
caste, or a priesthood (so-called organic centralism). 62

If the relationship between intellectuals and people-nation,
between the leaders and the led, the rulers and the ruled, is provided
by an organic cohesion in which feeling-passion becomes under-
standing and thence knowledge (not mechanically but in a way
that is alive), then and only then is the relationship one of repre-
sentation. Only then can there take place an exchange of individual
elements between the rulers and ruled, leaders [dirigenti] and led,
and can the shared life be realised which alone is a social force —
with the creation of the "historical bloc".

De Man "studies" popular feelings: he does not feel with them

M See note 83 on p. 187.

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM 41 g

to guide them, and lead them into a catharsis of modern civilisation.
His position is that of the scholarly student of folklore who is
permanently afraid that modernity is going to destroy the object
of his study. What one finds in his book is the pedantic reflection
of what is, however, a real need : for popular feelings to be known
and studied in the way in which they present themselves objectively
and for them not to be considered something negligible and inert
within the movement of history.

CRITICAL NOTES OK AN ATTEMPT AT POPULAR
SOCIOLOGY

A work like the Popular Manual,** which is essentially destined for a
community of readers who are not professional intellectuals, should
have taken as its starting point a critical analysis of the philosophy
of common sense, which is the "philosophy of non-philosophers",
or in other words the conception of the world which is uncritically
absorbed by the various social and cultural environments in which
the moral individuality of the average man is developed. Common
sense is not a single unique conception, identical in time and space.
It is the "folklore" of philosophy, and, like folklore, it takes countless
different forms. Its most fundamental characteristic is that it is a
conception which, even in the brain of one individual, is fragmentary,
incoherent and inconseqential, in conformity with the social and
cultural position of those masses whose philosophy it is. At those
times in history when a homogeneous social group is brought into
being, there comes into being also, in opposition to common sense,
a homogeneous — in other words coherent and systematic —
philosophy. 64

The first mistake of the Popular Manual is that it starts, at least
implicitly, from the assumption that the elaboration of an original
philosophy of the popular masses is to be opposed to the great
systems of traditional philosophy and the religion of the leaders
of the clergy — i.e. the conception of the world of the intellectuals
and of high culture. In reality these systems are unknown to the

63 i.e. Bukharin's Theory of Historical Materialism: A Popular Manual of Marxist
Sociology (see introduction to this section). For reasons of censorship Gramsci
refers to Bukharin throughout this section simply as "the author" and to his
book as the "Popular Manual" (Saggio po polar e) or just "the Manual".

64 For a more systematic exposition of Gramsci's own ideas on common sense,
and therefore on the correct starting point for a popular work on Marxism, see
the opening pages of "Some Preliminary Points of Reference", p. 323 ff.

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multitude and have no direct influence on its way of thinking and
acting. This does not mean of course that they are altogether
without influence but it is influence of a different kind. These systems
influence the popular masses as an external political force, an
element of cohesive force exercised by the ruling classes and there-
fore an element of subordination to an external hegemony. This
limits the original thought of the popular masses in a negative
direction, without having the positive effect of a vital ferment of
interior transformation of what the masses think in an embryonic
and chaotic form about the world and life. The principal elements
of common sense are provided by religion, and consequently the
relationship between common sense and religion is much more
intimate than that between common sense and the philosophical
systems of the intellectuals. But even within religion some critical
distinctions should be made. Every religion, even Catholicism
(indeed Catholicism more than any, precisely because of its efforts
to retain a "surface" unity and avoid splintering into national
churches and social stratifications), is in reality a multiplicity of
distinct and often contradictory religions : there is one Catholicism
for the peasants, one for the petits-bourgeois and town workers, one
for women, and one for intellectuals which is itself variegated and dis-
connected. But common sense is influenced not only by the crudest
and least elaborated forms of these sundry Catholicisms as they
exist today. Previous religions have also had an influence and
remain components of common sense to this day, and the same is
true of previous forms of present Catholicism — popular heretical
movements, scientific superstitions connected with past cults, etc.
In common sense it is the "realistic", materialistic elements which
are predominant, the immediate product of crude sensation. This is
by no means in contradiction with the religious element, far from
it. But here these elements are "superstitious" and acritical. This,
then, is a danger of the Popular Manual, which often reinforces,
instead of scientifically criticising, these acritical elements which
have caused common sense to remain Ptolemaic, anthropomorphic
and anthropocentric.

The above remarks about the way in which the Popular Manual
criticises systematic philosophies instead of starting from a critique
of common sense, should be understood as a methodological point
and within certain limits. Certainly they do not mean that the
critique of the systematic philosophies of the intellectuals is to be
neglected. When an individual from the masses succeeds in
criticising and going beyond common sense, he by this very fact

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM

421

accepts a new philosophy. Hence the necessity, in an exposition of
the philosophy of praxis, of a polemic with traditional philosophies.
Indeed, because by its nature it tends towards being a mass philo-
sophy, the philosophy of praxis can only be conceived in a polemical
form and in the form of a perpetual struggle. None the less the
starting point must always be that common sense which is the
spontaneous philosophy of the multitude and which has to be made
ideologically coherent.

More than in any other national literature there exist in French
philosophical literature treatments of "common sense" : this is due
to the more strictly "popular-national" 65 character of French
culture, in other words to the fact that the intellectuals, because of
certain specific traditional conditions, tend more than elsewhere
to approach the people in order to guide it ideologically and keep
it linked with the leading group. One will be able to find in French
literature a lot of material on common sense that can be used and
elaborated. The attitude of French philosophical culture towards
common sense can indeed offer a model of hegemonic ideological
construction. American and English culture can also offer some
suggestions, but not in such an organic and complete way as the
French. "Common sense" has been treated in various ways. Some-
times it has even been taken as the base of philosophy itself. Alter-
natively it has been criticised from the point of view of another
philosophy. In reality, in either case, the result was to transcend a
particular form of common sense and to create another which was
closer to the conception of the world of the leading group. In an
article on Leon Brunschvicg 66 in Les Nouvelles Litteraires of the
17 October 193 1, Henri Gouhier writes, on the subject of
Brunschvicg's philosophy: "There is but one sole movement of
spiritualisation, be it in mathematics, physics, biology, philosophy
or morals: it is the effort through which the spirit frees itself from
common sense and from its spontaneous metaphysics which envisages

65 The notion of the "popular-national" (or, more frequently "national-
popular") is one of the most interesting and also most widely criticised ideas in
Gramsci's thought. Supposedly at the origin of the cultural policy of the PCI
since the war, it is perhaps best taken as describing a sort of "historic bloc"
between national and popular aspirations in the formation of which the intel-
lectuals, in the wide, Gramscian use of the term play an essential mediating role.
It is important to stress, however, that it is a cultural concept, relating to the
position of the masses within the culture of the nation, and radically alien to any
form of populism or "national socialism".

68 Leon Brunschvicg (1 869-1 944): French philosopher, most famous, apart
from his work on Pascal, for his application of a neo-Kantian problematic to the
philosophy of mathematics and science.

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a world of real sensible things and man in the middle of this world".*
Croce's attitude towards "common sense" seems unclear. In
Croce, the proposition that all men are philosophers has an exces-
sive influence on his judgment about common sense. It seems that
Croce often likes to feel that certain philosophical propositions are
shared by common sense. But what can this mean concretely?
Common sense is a chaotic aggregate of disparate conceptions, and
one can find there anything that one likes. Furthermore, this
attitude of Croce's towards common sense has not led to a concep-
tion of culture which is productive from the national-popular point
of view, that is to a more concretely historicist conception of
philosophy — but that in any case could happen only with the
philosophy of praxis.

As far as Gentile is concerned one must look at his article La
concezione umanistica del mondo [The humanistic conception of the
world] (in La JVuova Antologia, i June 1931). Gentile writes: "Philo-
sophy could be defined as a great effort accomplished by reflective
thought to gain critical certainty of the truths of common sense
and of the naive consciousness, of those truths of which it can be
said that every man feels them naturally and which constitute the
solid structure of the mentality he requires for everyday life." This
seems yet another example of the disordered crudity of Gentile's
thought. Gentile's affirmation seems to be "naively" derived from
Croce's affirmations on popular modes of thought as the confirma-
tion of the truth of certain philosophical propositions. Further on
Gentile writes: "The healthy man believes in God and in the
freedom of his spirit". Thus just in these two propositions of
Gentile's we find: 1. an extra-historical "human nature" which
one can't see quite what it is ; 2. the human nature of the healthy
man; 3. the common sense of the healthy man and therefore also
a common sense of the non-healthy. But what is meant by healthy
man? Physically healthy? Or not mad? 67 Or someone who thinks
in a healthy way, right-thinking, philistine, etc.? And what does
a "truth of common sense" mean ? Gentile's philosophy, for example,
is utterly contrary to common sense, whether one understands
thereby the naive philosophy of the people, which revolts against
any form of subjectivist idealism, or whether one understands it

* Brunschvicg's works — Les Etapes de la Philosophie Mathimalique, V Experience
Humaine et la Causalite' Physique, Le Progres de la Conscience dans la Philosophie Occidental,
La Connaissance de Soi.

" The sense of this passage is dependent on an ambiguity in the Italian word
sano, which means both "healthy" in the physical sense and mentally "sane".

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM 423

to be good sense and a contemptuous attitude to the abstruseness,
ingenuities and obscurity of certain forms of scientific and philo-
sophical exposition. This flirtation of Gentile with common sense
is quite comical.

What was said above does not mean that there are no truths in
common sense. It means rather that common sense is an ambiguous,
contradictory and multiform concept, and that to refer to common
sense as a confirmation of truth is a nonsense. It is possible to state
correctly that a certain truth has become part of common sense in
order to indicate that it has spread beyond the confines of intellectual
groups, but all one is doing in that case is making a historical
observation and an assertion of the rationality of history. In this
sense, and used with restraint, the argument has a certain validity,
precisely because common sense is crudely neophobe and conserva-
tive so that to have succeeded in forcing the introduction of a new
truth is a proof that the truth in question has exceptional evidence
and capacity for expansion.

Recall Giusti's epigram:

"Good sense, which once ruled far and wide,
Now in our schools to rest is laid.
Science, its once beloved child,
Killed it to see how it was made." 68

This quotation can serve to indicate how the terms good sense
and common sense are used ambiguously: as "philosophy", as a
specific mode of thought with a certain content of beliefs and
opinions, and as an attitude of amiable indulgence, though at the
same time contemptuous, towards anything abstruse and ingenious.
It was therefore necessary for science to kill a particular form of
traditional good sense, in order to create a "new" good sense.

References to common sense and to the solidity of its beliefs are
frequent in Marx. 69 But Marx is referring not to the validity of
the content of these beliefs but rather to their formal solidity and

"II buon senso che un difu caposcuola
Or ndlc nostre scuole i morto qffatto.
La scienza, sua figliola,

L'uccue per veder com' era fatto." (Giusti, Epigrammi.)
Giuseppe Giusti (1808 50) was a radical poet and satirist, who combined a fierce
hatred of reaction and restoration with an old-fashioned Enlightenment
rationalism. This epigram dates from 1849, and in its correct version differs
slightly from the text quoted, probably from memory, by Gramsci.
*• See note 44 on p. 404.

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to the consequent imperative character they have when they produce
norms of conduct. There is, further, implicit in these references an
assertion of the necessity for new popular beliefs, that is to say a
new common sense and with it a new culture and a new philosophy
which will be rooted in the popular consciousness with the same
solidity and imperative quality as traditional beliefs.

Note I. One should add on the subject of Gentile's propositions
about common sense, that his language is deliberately equivocal
for disreputable opportunistic ideological reasons. When he
writes, as an example of one of those truths of common sense
whose critical certainty is elaborated by reflective thought, that
"the healthy man believes in God and in the freedom of his
spirit", he wants it to be believed that his philosophy is the
conquest of the critical certainty of the truths of Catholicism,
but the Catholics do not take the bait and continue to maintain
that Gentile's idealism is the purest paganism, etc. None the less
Gentile insists and perpetuates an ambiguity which is not without
consequence in creating a climate of demi-mondaine culture, in
which all cats are grey, religion embraces atheism, immanence
flirts with transcendence and Antonio Bruers has a field day,
because the more the threads get tangled and thought becomes
obscure the more he feels himself justified in his macaronic
"syncretism". If Gentile's words meant what they literally say,
actual idealism 70 would have become indeed the "manservant
of theology".

Note II. In the teaching of philosophy which is aimed not at
giving the student historical information about the development
of past philosophy, but at giving him a cultural formation and
helping him to elaborate his own thought critically so as to be
able to participate in an ideological and cultural community,
it is necessary to take as one's starting point what the student
already knows and his philosophical experience (having first
demonstrated to him precisely that he has such an experience,
that he is a "philosopher" without knowing it). And since one
presupposes a certain average cultural and intellectual level
among the students, who in all probability have hitherto only

,0 "Actual idealism": i.e. the philosophy of Gentile, Spirito and others, so
called because it saw the spirit as existing concretely in the "act" rather than in
self-reflecting consciousness. (See G. Gentile, Teoria dello spirito come alto puro, 1916.)
For Antonio Bruers, described by Gramsci as "a notorious muddle-headed
prattler", see LVN. p. 190.

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM

425

acquired scattered and fragmentary bits of information and have
no methodological and critical preparation, one cannot but
start in the first place from common sense, then secondly from
religion, and only at a third stage move on to the philosophical
systems elaborated by traditional intellectual groups.

GENERAL QUESTIONS

Historical Materialism and Sociology

One preliminary observation to be made is this: that the title does
not correspond to the content of the book. 71 "Theory of the philo-
sophy of praxis" ought to mean a logical and coherent systematic
treatment of the philosophical concepts generically known under the
title of historical materialism (many of which are spurious and come
from other sources and as such require to be criticised and elimi-
nated). The first chapters should treat the following questions: What
is philosophy ? In what sense can a conception of the world be called
a philosophy? How has philosophy been conceived hitherto? Does
the philosophy of praxis renew this conception ? What is meant by
a "speculative" philosophy? Would the philosophy of praxis ever
be able to have a speculative form? What are the relationships
between ideologies, conceptions of the world and philosophies?
What is or should be the relationship between theory and practice?
How do traditional philosophies conceive of this relationship ? etc.
The answer to these and other questions constitutes the "theory"
of the philosophy of praxis. 72

In the Popular Manual there is not even a coherent justification
offered of the premiss implicit in the exposition and explicitly
referred to elsewhere, quite casually, that the true philosophy is
philosophical materialism and that the philosophy of praxis is purely
a "sociology". What does this assertion really mean? If it were
true, then the theory of the philosophy of praxis would be

71 The title is "Theory of Historical Materialism", and the sub-title "A Popular
Manual of Marxist Sociology". Gramsci goes on to argue below that only the
sub-title is in any way an exact description of the content of Bukharin's work,
and even then only "on condition that one gives an extremely restricted meaning
to the term 'sociology' ". It should be noted that Gramsci himself vacillates
slightly in his notion of what sociology is. His main targets would appear to be
empiricism and positivism applied to the science of society, and the reflection
of these doctrines, in the guise of "materialism", in Bukharin's Manual.

72 These questions are effectively those to which Gramsci himself attempts to
give an answer in his own philosophical writings. See in particular pp. 34.3 377.

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philosophical materialism. But in that case what does it mean to
say that the philosophy of praxis is a sociology? What sort of
thing would this sociology be? A science of politics and historio-
graphy? Or a systematic collection, classified in a particular ordered
form, of purely empirical observations on the art of politics and of
external canons of historical research ? Answers to these questions
are not to be found in the book. But only they could be a theory.
Thus the connection between the general title "Theory [of
historical materialism]" and the sub-title "Popular Manual [of
Marxist sociology]" is unjustified. The sub-title would be a more
exact title, on condition that one gave an extremely restricted
meaning to the term "sociology". In fact the question arises of
what is "sociology". Is not sociology an attempt to produce a
so-called exact (i.e. positivist) science of social facts, that is of
politics and history — in other words a philosophy in embryo ? Has
not sociology tried to do something similar to the philosophy of
praxis? 73 One must however be clear about this: the philosophy of
praxis was born in the form of aphorisms and practical criteria
for the purely accidental reason that its founder dedicated his
intellectual forces to other problems, particularly economic (which
he treated in systematic form) ; but in these practical criteria and
these aphorisms is implicit an entire conception of the world, a
philosophy.

Sociology has been an attempt to create a method of historical
and political science in a form dependent on a pre-elaborated
philosophical system, that of evolutionist positivism, against which
sociology reacted, but only partially. It therefore became a tendency
on its own; it became the philosophy of non-philosophers, an
attempt to provide a schematic description and classification of
historical and political facts, according to criteria built up on the
model of natural science. It is therefore an attempt to derive
"experimentally" the laws of evolution of human society in such a
way as to "predict" that the oak tree will develop out of the acorn.
Vulgar evolutionism is at the root of sociology, and sociology cannot
know the dialectical principle with its passage from quantity to
quality. But this passage disturbs any form of evolution and any
law of uniformity understood in a vulgar evolutionist sense. In any
case, any sociology presupposes a philosophy, a conception of the

53 What Gramsci has in mind at this point is less the empiricism which is his
most usual target than the attempts, notably by Max Weber but also by Pareto
and Michels, to construct a general and comprehensive theory of man and society,
under the general title (first coined by Auguste Comte) of "sociology".

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM

427

world, of which it is but a subordinate part. Nor should the par-
ticular internal "logic" of the varying forms of sociology, which is
what gives them a mechanical coherence, be confused with general
theory, that is to say philosophy. Naturally this does not mean
that the search for "laws" of uniformity is not a useful and interesting
pursuit or that a treatise of immediate observations on the art of
politics does not have its purpose. But one should call a spade a
spade, and present treatises of this kind for what they really are.

All these are "theoretical" problems, while those that the author
of the Manna considers as such are not. The questions which he
poses are all of an immediate political and ideological order (under-
standing ideology as an intermediate phase between philosophy and
day-to-day practice); they are reflections on disconnected and
casual individual historical and political facts. One theoretical
question arises for the author right at the beginning, when he
refers to a tendency which denies that it is possible to construct a
sociology of the philosophy of praxis and which maintains that this
philosophy can be expressed only through concrete historical works.
This objection, which is extremely important, is not resolved by
the author except on the level of phrasemongering. Certainly the
philosophy of praxis is realised through the concrete study of past
history and through present activity to construct new history. But
a theory of history and politics can be made, for even if the facts
are always unique and changeable in the flux of movement of
history, the concepts can be theorised. Otherwise one would not
even be able to tell what movement is, or the dialectic, and one
would fall back into a new form of nominalism.*

The reduction of the philosophy of praxis to a form of sociology
has represented the crystallisation of the degenerate tendency,
already criticised by Engels (in the letters to two students published
in the Sozial. Akademiker) , 74 and which consists in reducing a con-

* It is because he has not posed with any exactitude the question of what
"theory" is that the author has been prevented from posing the further question
of what is religion and from offering a realistic historical judgment of past philo-
sophies, all of which he presents as pure delirium and folly.

74 F. Engels. Letters to Josef Bloch and to Heinz Starkenburg, 21 September
i8go and 25 January 1894, published in Der Sozidistischer Akademiker, 1 and 15
October 1895. In the letter to Bloch, Engels writes: "According to the materialist
conception of history the determining moment in history is ultimately the production
and reproduction of real life. More than this neither Marx nor I have ever asserted.
If therefore somebody twists this into the statement that the economic moment is
the only determining one, he transforms it into a meaningless, abstract and
absurd phrase." Both letters are in fact intended as correctives to the pseudo-

Marxist reductionism which
note 123 below.)

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ception of the world to a mechanical formula which gives the
impression of holding the whole of history in the palm of its hand.
This has provided the strongest incentive to the "pocket-geniuses",
with their facile journalistic improvisations. The experience on which
the philosophy of praxis is based cannot be schematised; it is history
in all its infinite variety and multiplicity, whose study can give rise
to "philology" 76 as a method of scholarship for ascertaining par-
ticular facts and to philosophy understood as a general methodology
of history. This perhaps is what was meant by those writers who,
as is mentioned in rather summary fashion in the first chapter of
the Manual, deny that one can make a sociology of the philosophy
of praxis and maintain rather that this philosophy lives only in
particular historical essays (this assertion, in such a bald and crude
form, is certainly erroneous and seems like a new and curious form
of nominalism and philosophical scepticism) .

To deny that one can construct a sociology, understood in the
sense of a science of society, that is a science of history and politics,
which is not co-terminous with the philosophy of praxis itself, does
not mean that one cannot build up an empirical compilation of
practical observations which extend the sphere of philology as
traditionally understood. If philology is the methodological express
sion of the importance of ascertaining and precising particular fact-
in their unique and unrepeatable individuality, one cannot however
exclude the practical utility of isolating certain more general "laws
of tendency" corresponding in the political field to the laws of
statistics or to the law of large numbers which have helped to
advance various of the natural sciences. 76 But the fact has not been
properly emphasised that statistical laws can be employed in the
science and art of politics only so long as the great masses of the
population remain (or at least are reputed to remain) essentially
passive, in relation to the questions which interest historians and
politicians. Furthermore the extension of statistics to the science
and art of politics can have very serious consequences to the extent
that it is adopted for working out future perspectives and pro-
grammes of action. In the natural sciences the worst that statistics

'* "Philology": Gramsci uses the word here partly in its conventional sense
of the study of linguistic and historical documents (i.e. the primary sources of
historiography and literary history) but partly in the sense resuscitated by Croce
from the writings of Vico, which divides knowledge into philosophy as the science
of the True and philology as the pursuit of the Certain. (See also note 1 1 on
P- 35-)

'* For the law of large numbers and for Gramsci's use of the notion of a law
of tendency see notes 55 and 40 on pp. 412 and 401.

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM

429

can do is produce blunders and irrelevances which can easily be
corrected by further research and which in any case simply make
the individual scientist who used the technique look a bit ridiculous.
But in the science and art of politics it can have literally catastrophic
results which do irreparable harm. Indeed in politics the assumption
of the law of statistics as an essential law operating of necessity is
not only a scientific error, but becomes a practical error in action.
What is more it favours mental laziness and a superficiality in
political programmes. It should be observed that political action
tends precisely to rouse the masses from passivity, in other words
to destroy the law of large numbers. So how can that law be con-
sidered a law of sociology ? If one thinks about it even the demand
for a planned, i.e. guided, economy is destined to break down the
statistical law understood in a mechanical sense, that is statistics
produced by the fortuitous putting together of an infinity of
arbitrary individual acts. Planning of this kind must be based on
statistics, but that is not the same thing. Human awareness replaces
naturalistic "spontaneity". A further element which, in the art of
politics, leads to the overthrow of the old naturalistic schema is
the replacement by political organisms (parties) of single indi-
viduals and individual (or charismatic, 7 7 as Michels calls them)
leaders. With the extension of mass parties and their organic
coalescence with the intimate (economic-productive) life of the
masses themselves, the process whereby popular feeling is stan-
dardised ceases to be mechanical and casual (that is produced by
the conditioning of environmental factors and the like) and becomes
conscious and critical. Knowledge and a judgment of the importance
of this feeling on the part of the leaders is no longer the product
of hunches backed up by the identification of statistical laws, which
leaders then translate into ideas and words-as-force. (This is the
rational and intellectual way and is all too often fallacious.) Rather
it is acquired by the collective organism through "active and
conscious co-participation", through "compassionality", through
experience of immediate particulars, through a system which one
could call "living philology". In this way a close link is formed
between great mass, party and leading group; and the whole com-
plex, thus articulated, can move together as "collective-man".

" The notion of "charisma" as a quality which causes leaders to be followed
in spite of their lack of legitimate or institutional authority derives in fact not
from Michels but from Max Weber, who in turn took it from the jurist and
church historian Rudolf Sohm. For Michels see note 79 below.

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Henri De Man's book, 78 if it has any value, has it precisely in
this sense, in that he invites us to "inform" ourselves in more detail
about the real feelings of groups and individuals and not those
that are assumed on the basis of sociological laws. But De Man
has made no original discoveries, nor has he found any original
principle which goes beyond the philosophy of praxis or scientifically
proves it to be sterile or mistaken. He has elevated to the status
of a scientific principle an empirical criterion of the art of politics
which was already well known and had been applied, although it
had perhaps been insufficiently defined and developed. But De Man
has not even been able to establish the exact limits of his criterion,
for he has finished up by just producing a new statistical law and,
unconsciously and under another name, a new method of social
mathematics and of external classification, a new abstract sociology.

Note I. The so-called laws of sociology which are assumed as
laws of causation (such-and-such a fact occurs because of such-
and-such a law, etc.) have no causal value: they are almost
always tautologies and paralogisms. Usually they are no more
than a duplicate of the observed fact itself. A fact or a series
of facts is described according to a mechanical process of abstract
generalisation, a relationship of similarity is derived from this
and given the title of law and the law is then assumed to have
causal value. But what novelty is there in that ? The only novelty
is the collective name given to a series of petty facts, but names
are not an innovation. (In Michels' treatises 79 one can find a
whole catalogue of similar tautological generalisations, the last
and most famous being that about the "charismatic leader".)
What is not realised is that in this way one falls into a baroque
form of Platonic idealism, since these abstract laws have a strange
resemblance to Plato's pure ideas which are the essence of real
earthly facts.

78 Au deli du Marxisme. See note 74 on p. 376.

" See in particular "Political Parties" (Zur Soziologie des Parteiwesens, 191 1.
English translation, from the Italian, 1915). Robert Michels (1876 1936) was a
German sociologist of (originally) Social-Democratic leanings who emigrated
first to Switzerland and then to Italy, where he became a naturalised citizen
under the Mussolini regime. Michels is most famous for his "iron law of oligarchy"
and together with Mosca and Pareto is an originator of the theory of political
ilites. Despite Gramsci's evident contempt for Michels' method and distaste
for his politics, it has been argued that there was a certain indirect influence
of Michels and elite theory on his own theory of social and political structures in
non-revolutionary periods. (See G. Galli, "Gramsci e le teorie delle elites", in
Gramsci e la cullura contemporanea, vol. II, pp. 201 217.)

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM 43 j

The Constituent Parts of the Philosophy of Praxis

A systematic treatment of the philosophy of praxis cannot afford
to neglect any of the constituent parts of the doctrines of its founder
[Marx]. But how should this be understood? It should deal with
all the general philosophical part, and then should develop in a
coherent fashion all the general concepts of a methodology of
history and politics and, in addition, of art, economics and ethics,
finding place in the overall construction for a theory of the natural
sciences. One widespread conception is that the philosophy of
praxis is a pure philosophy, the science of dialectics, the other
parts of it being economics and politics, and it is therefore main-
tained that the doctrine is formed of three constituent parts, which
are at the same time the consummation and the transcending of
the highest level reached around 1848 by science in the most
advanced countries of Europe: classical German philosophy, English
classical economics and French political activity and science. This
conception, which reflects rather a generic search for historical
sources than a classification drawn from the heart of the doctrine
itself, cannot be set up in opposition, as a definitive scheme, to
some other definition of the doctrine which is closer to reality. It
will be asked whether the philosophy of praxis is not precisely and
specifically a theory of history, and the answer must be that this
is indeed true but that one cannot separate politics and economics
from history, even the specialised aspects of political science and
art and of economic science and policy. This means that, after
having accomplished the principal task in the general philosophical
part, which deals with the philosophy of praxis proper — the science
of dialectics or the theory of knowledge, within which the general
concepts of history, politics and economics are interwoven in an
organic unity — it would be useful, in a popular manual, to give a
general outline of each moment or constituent part, even to the
extent of treating them as independent and distinct sciences. On
close examination it is clear that in the Popular Manual all these
points are at least referred to, but casually and incoherently, in a
quite chaotic and indistinct way, because there is no clear and
precise concept of what the philosophy of praxis itself actually is.

Structure and Historical Movement

This fundamental point is not dealt with: how does the historical
movement arise on the structural base? The problem is however

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referred to in Plekhanov's Fundamentals 60 and could be developed.
This is furthermore the crux of all the questions that have arisen
around the philosophy of praxis and without resolving this one
cannot resolve the corresponding problem about the relationship
between society and "nature", to which the Manual devotes a
special chapter. It would have been necessary to analyse the full
import and consequences of the two propositions in the Preface to
A Contribution to the Critique of Political Economy to the following effect:

1. Mankind only poses for itself such tasks as it can resolve ; . . .
the task itself only arises when the material conditions for its
resolution already exist or at least are in the process of formation.

2. A social order does not perish until all the productive forces
for which it still has room have been developed and new and higher
relations of production have taken their place, and until the material
conditions of the new relations have grown up within the womb of
the old society. Only on this basis can all mechanicism and every
trace of the superstitiously "miraculous" be eliminated, and it is
on this basis that the problem of the formation of active political
groups, and, in the last analysis, even the problem of the historical
function of great personalities must be posed.

The Intellectuals

It would be worth compiling a "reasoned" catalogue of the men
of learning whose opinions are widely quoted or contested in the
book, each name to be accompanied by notes on their significance
and scientific importance (this to be done also for the supporters
of the philosophy of praxis who are certainly not quoted in the light
of their originality and significance). In fact there are only the
most passing references to the great intellectuals. The question is
raised: would it not have been better to have referred only to the
major intellectuals on the enemy side, leaving aside the men in the
second rank, the regurgitators of second-hand phrases ? One gets
the impression that the author wants to combat only the weakest
of his adversaries and the weakest of their positions (or the ones
which the weakest adversaries have maintained least adequately),
in order to obtain facile verbal victories — for one can hardly speak
of real victories. The illusion is created that there exists some kind
of more than formal and metaphorical resemblance between an
ideological and a politico-military front. In the political and military

G. Plekhanov, Fundamental Problems of Marxism, 1908.

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM

433

struggle it can be correct tactics to break through at the points of
least resistance in order to be able to assault the strongest point
with maximum forces that have been precisely made available by
the elimination of the weaker auxiliaries. Political and military
victories, within certain limits, have a permanent and universal
value and the strategic end can be attained decisively with a general
effect for everyone. On the ideological front, however, the defeat
of the auxiliaries and the minor hangers-on is of all but negligible
importance. Here it is necessary to engage battle with the most
eminent of one's adversaries. Otherwise one confuses newspapers
with books, and petty daily polemic with scientific work. The
lesser figures must be abandoned to the infinite casebook of news-
paper polemic.

A new science proves its efficacy and vitality when it demonstrates
that it is capable of confronting the great champions of the tendencies
opposed to it and when it either resolves by its own means the vital
questions which they have posed or demonstrates, in peremptory
fashion, that these questions are false problems.

It is true that an historical epoch and a given society are charac-
terised rather by the average run of intellectuals, and therefore by
the more mediocre. But widespread, mass ideology must be dis-
tinguished from the scientific works and the great philosophical
syntheses which are its real cornerstones. It is the latter which must
be overcome, eithei negatively, by demonstrating that they are
without foundation, or positively, by opposing to them philosophical
syntheses of greater importance and significance. Reading the
Manual one has the impression of someone who cannot sleep for
the moonlight and who struggles to massacre the fireflies in the
belief that by so doing he will make the brightness lessen or
disappear.

Science and System

Is it possible to write an elementary book, a handbook, a "Popular
Manual", on a doctrine that is still at the stage of discussion,
polemic and elaboration? A popular manual cannot be conceived
other than as a formally dogmatic, stylistically poised and scienti-
fically balanced exposition of a particular subject. It can only be
an introduction to scientific study, and not an exposition of original
scientific researches, since it is written for young people or for a
public which, from the point of view of scientific discipline, is in
a condition like that of youth and therefore has an immediate need

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for "certainties", for opinions which, at least on a formal level,
appear as reliably true and indisputable. If the doctrine in question
has not yet reached this "classical" phase of its development, any
attempt to "manualise" it is bound to fail, its logical ordering will
be purely apparent and illusory, and one will get, as with the
"Popular Manual", just a mechanical juxtaposition of disparate
elements which remain inexorably disconnected and disjointed in
spite of the unitary varnish provided by the literary presentation.
Why not therefore pose the question in its correct theoretical and
historical terms and rest content with a book in which each of the
essential problems of the doctrine receives separate monographic
treatment? This would be more serious and more "scientific". But
the vulgar contention is that science must absolutely mean "system",
and consequently systems of all sorts are built up which have only
the mechanical exteriority of a system and not its necessary inherent
coherence.

The Dialectic

The Manual contains no treatment of any kind of the dialectic.
The dialectic is presupposed, in a very superficial manner, but is
not expounded, and this is absurd in a manual which ought to
contain the essential elements of the doctrine under discussion and
whose bibliographical references should be aimed at stimulating
study in order to widen and deepen understanding of the subject
and not at replacing the manual itself. The absence of any treat-
ment of the dialectic could have two origins. The first of these
would be the fact that philosophy of praxis is envisaged as split
into two elements: on the one hand a theory of history and politics
conceived as sociology — i.e. one that can be constructed according
to the methods of natural science (experimental in the crudest
positivist sense) ; and on the other hand a philosophy proper, this
being philosophical alias metaphysical or mechanical (vulgar)
materialism.

Even after the great debate which has taken place against
mechanicism, the author of the Manual does not appear to have
changed very much his way of posing the philosophical problem.
It would appear from the contribution presented at the London
Congress on the History of Science 81 that he continues to maintain
that the philosophy of praxis has always been split into two: a

81 See Introduction to this Section.

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM

435

doctrine of history and politics, and a philosophy, although he now
calls the latter dialectical materialism. But if the question is framed
in this way, one can no longer understand the importance and
significance of the dialectic, which is relegated from its position as
a doctrine of knowledge and the very marrow of historiography
and the science of politics, to the level of a sub-species of formal
logic and elementary scholastics. The true fundamental function
and significance of the dialectic can only be grasped if the philosophy
of praxis is conceived as an integral and original philosophy which
opens up a new phase of history and a new phase in the development
of world thought. It does this to the extent that it goes beyond both
traditional idealism and traditional materialism, philosophies which
are expressions of past societies, while retaining their vital elements.
If the philosophy of praxis is not considered except in subordination
to another philosophy, then it is not possible to grasp the new
dialectic, through which the transcending of old philosophies is
effected and expressed.

The second origin would appear to be psychological. It is felt
that the dialectic is something arduous and difficult, in so far as
thinking dialectically goes against vulgar common sense, which is
dogmatic and eager for peremptory certainties and has as its
expression formal logic. To understand this better one can think
of what would happen if in primary and secondary schools natural
and physical sciences were taught on the basis of Einsteinian
relativity and the traditional notion of a "law of nature" was
accompanied by that of a statistical law or of the law of large
numbers. The children would not understand anything at all and
the clash between school teaching and family and popular life would
be such that the school would become an object of ridicule and
caricature.

This motivation seems to me to act as a psychological brake on
the author of the Manual; he really does capitulate before common
sense and vulgar thought, since he has not put the problem in
exact theoretical terms and is therefore in practice disarmed and
impotent. The uneducated and crude environment has dominated
the educator and vulgar common sense has imposed itself on science
rather than the other way round. If the environment is the educator,
it too must in turn be educated, 82 but the Manual does not under-
stand this revolutionary dialectic. The source of all the errors of
the Manual, and of its author (who does not seem to have changed

82 Cf. the third of Marx's Theses on Feuerbach.

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his position, even after the great debate which apparently, or so it
would appear from the text presented at the London Congress,
resulted in his repudiating the book), consists precisely in this
pretension to divide the philosophy of praxis into two parts: a
"sociology" and a systematic philosophy. Separated from the theory
of history and politics philosophy cannot be other than meta-
physics, whereas the great conquest in the history of modern
thought, represented by the philosophy of praxis, is precisely the
concrete historicisation of philosophy and its identification with
history.

On Metaphysics

Can one extract from the Popular Manual a critique of metaphysics
and of speculative philosophy ? It has to be said that the author
fails to grasp the very concept of metaphysics, just as he fails to
grasp the concepts of historical movement, of becoming and,
therefore, of the dialectic itself. To think of a philosophical affirma-
tion as true in a particular historical period (that is, as the necessary
and inseparable expression of a particular historical action, of a
particular praxis) but as superseded and rendered "vain" in a
succeeding period, without however falling into scepticism and
moral and ideological relativism, in other words to see philosophy
as historicity, is quite an arduous and difficult mental operation.
The author, however, falls headlong into dogmatism and therefore
into a form, though a naive one, of metaphysics. This is clear from
the beginning in the way in which the problem is situated and from
the desire to construct a systematic "sociology" of the philosophy
of praxis — sociology, in this case, meaning precisely naive meta-
physics. In the final section of the introduction the author is
incapable of replying to those critics who maintain that the philo-
sophy of praxis can live only in concrete works of history. He does
not succeed in elaborating the concept of philosophy of praxis as
"historical methodology", and of that in turn as "philosophy", as
the only concrete philosophy. That is to say he does not succeed in
posing and resolving, from the point of view of the real dialectic,
the problem which Croce has posed and has attempted to resolve
from the speculative point of view. Instead of a historical methodo-
logy, of a philosophy, he constructs a casebook of particular ques-
tions which he envisages and resolves in a dogmatic fashion, and
sometimes purely verbally, with paralogisms that are as pretentious
as they are naive. This casebook could be useful and interesting if

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM 437

it was presented as such, with no pretension beyond that of giving
approximate schemas of an empirical character, useful for immediate
practice. But one can see why this is bound to happen since in the
Popular Manual the philosophy of praxis is not an autonomous and
original philosophy but the "sociology" of metaphysical materialism.
As far as the book is concerned, metaphysics means only a specific
philosophical formulation, that of speculative idealism, rather than
any systematic formulation that is put forward as an extra-historical
truth, as an abstract universal outside of time and space.

The philosophy implicit in the Popular Manual could be called a
positivistic Aristotelianism, an adaptation of formal logic to the
methods of physical and natural science. The historical dialectic is
replaced by the law of causality and the search for regularity,
normality and uniformity. But how can one derive from this way of
seeing things the overcoming, the "overthrow" of praxis? 83 In
mechanical terms, the effect can never transcend the cause or the
system of causes, and therefore can have no development other than
the flat vulgar development of evolutionism.

If "speculative idealism" is the science of categories and of the
a priori synthesis of the spirit, i.e. a form of anti-historicist abstrac-
tion, the philosophy implicit in the Popular Manual is idealism
upside down, in the sense that the speculative categories are
replaced by empirical concepts and classifications which are no less
abstract and anti-historical.

One of the most blatant traces of old-fashioned metaphysics in
the Popular Manual is the attempt to reduce everything to a single
ultimate or final cause. One could reconstruct the history of the
problem of the single ultimate cause and demonstrate that it is
one manifestation of the "search for God". In opposition to this
dogmatism recall once again the two letters of Engels published in
the Sozial. Akademiker. %i

The Concept of "Science"

The situating of the problem as a search for laws and for constant,
regular and uniform lines is connected to a need, conceived in a
somewhat puerile and ingenuous way, to resolve in peremDtory
fashion the practical problem of the predictability o f historical
events. Since it "appears", by a strange inversion of the perspectives,

83 il "rovesciamento" della prassi. See note 56 on p. 366.

84 See note 74 on,p. 427.

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that the natural sciences provide us with the ability to foresee the
evolution of natural processes, historical methodology is "scienti-
fically" conceived only if, and in so far as, it permits one "abstractly"
to foresee the future of society. Hence the search for essential causes,
indeed for the "first cause", for the "cause of causes". But the
Theses on Feuerbach had already criticised in advance this simplistic
conception. In reality one can "scientifically" foresee only the
struggle, but not the concrete moments of the struggle, which
cannot but be the results of opposing forces in continuous movement,
which are never reducible to fixed quantities since within them
quantity is continually becoming quality. In reality one can "fore-
see" to the extent that one acts, to the extent that one applies a
voluntary effort and therefore contributes concretely to creating the
result "foreseen". Prediction reveals itself thus not as a scientific
act of knowledge, but as the abstract expression of the effort made,
the practical way of creating a collective will.

And how could prediction be an act of knowledge? One knows
what has been and what is, not what will be, which is something
"non-existent" and therefore unknowable by definition. Prediction
is therefore only a practical act which cannot, at the risk of being
an utterly futile waste of time, have any other explanation than
that given above. It is necessary to pose in exact terms the problem
of the predictability of historical events in order to be able to
criticise exhaustively the conception of mechanical causalism, to
rid it of any scientific prestige and reduce it to a pure myth which
perhaps was useful in the past in a backward period of development
of certain subaltern social groups.

But it is the concept itself of "science", as it merges from the
Popular Manual, which requires to be critically destroyed. It is taken
root and branch from the natural sciences, as if these were the
only sciences or science par excellence, as decreed by positivism. But
in the Popular Manual the term science is used in several meanings,
some explicit, some only by implication or barely mentioned. The
explicit sense is the one that "science" has in physical research. At
other times however it seems to indicate the method. But does there
exist a method in general, and if it does exist surely then it can only
mean philosophy? At other times it could mean nothing more than
formal logic: but can one call that a method and a science? It
has to be established that every research has its own specific method
and constructs its own specific science, and that the method has
developed and been elaborated together with the development and
elaboration of this specific research and science and forms with them

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM

439

a single whole. To think that one can advance the progress of a
work of scientific research by applying to it a standard method,
chosen because it has given good results in another field of research
to which it was naturally suited, is a strange delusion which has
little to do with science. There do however exist certain general
criteria which could be held to constitute the critical consciousness
of every man of science whatever his "specialisation", criteria
which should always be spontaneously vigilant in his work. Thus
one can say someone is not a scientist if he displays a lack of sureness
in his particular criteria, if he does not have a full understanding
of the concepts he is using, if he has scant information on and
understanding of the previous state of the problems he is dealing
with, if he is not very cautious in his assertions, if he does not proceed
in a necessary but in an arbitrary and disconnected fashion, if he
cannot take account of the gaps that exist in knowledge acquired
but covers them over and contents himself with purely verbal
solutions and connections instead of stating that one is dealing with
provisional positions which may have to be gone over again and
developed, etc.

One observation which could be made on many polemical
references in the Manual is its systematic failure to recognise the
possibility of error on the part of individual authors quoted, with
the result that a social group — of which the men of science are
always assumed to be the representatives — finds attributed to it the
most disparate opinions and the most contradictory intentions. This
is connected precisely to a more general criterion of method which
is this: it is not very "scientific", or more simply it is not very
"serious", to choose to combat the stupidest and most mediocre of
one's opponents or even to choose the least essential and the most
occasional of their opinions and then to presume thereby to have
"destroyed" "all" the enemy because one has destroyed a secondary
and incidental opinion of his or to have destroyed an ideology or a
doctrine because one has demonstrated the theoretical inadequacy
of its third- or fourth-rate champions. Further: "one must be fair
to one's enemies", in the sense that one must make an effort to
understand what they really meant to say and not maliciously stop
short at the superficial immediate meaning of their expressions.
That is to say, if the end proposed is that of raising the tone and
intellectual level of one's followers and not just the immediate aim
of creating a desert around oneself by all means possible. The point
of view to be adopted is this: one's supporter must discuss and
uphold his own point of view in debate with capable and intelligent

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opponents and not just with clumsy untrained people who are
convinced "by authority" or "by emotion". The possibility of
error must be asserted and justified, but without being untrue to
one's own conception, because what counts is not the opinion of
Tom, Dick and Harry, but that ensemble of opinions which have
become collective, a social element and a social force. These are
the opinions that must be refuted, in the person of those of their
theoretical exponents who are most representative and indeed
worthy of respect for the high quality of their thought and for their
"disinterestedness" in the immediate term. Nor should this be done
with the idea that one has thereby destroyed the corresponding social
element and social force (which would be pure enlightenment
rationalism) but only with the idea of having contributed i . to
maintaining and strengthening among one's own side the spirit of
distinction and division; and 2. to preparing the ground for one's
own side to absorb and give life to an original doctrine of its own,
corresponding to its own conditions of life.

It is worth observing that many of the deficiencies of the Popular
Manual are connected with its "oratory". The author refers in the
preface, as if with pride, to the "spoken" origin of his work. But
as Macaulay observed long ago in connection with oral discussions
in Greece, it is precisely "oral demonstrations" and the mentality
of orators which tend to be connected with the most incredible
superficialities of logic and argumentation. In any case this does
not lessen the responsibility of authors who do not revise before
printing the text of lectures delivered orally often with improvisation
in which a mechanical and casual association of ideas often replaces
the sinew of the argument. The worst thing is when, as a result of
this oratorical practice, the facile attitude of mind is consolidated
and critical restraints cease to function. One could make a list of the
"ignorantiae", "mutationes", "elenchi" 85 of the Popular Manual, due in
all probability to its oratorical "ardour". A typical example, in
my opinion, would be the section devoted to Professor Stammler,
which is quite exceptionally superficial and sophistic.

The So-Called "Reality of the External World"

The entire polemic against the subjectivist conception of reality,
with the "fearsome" question of the "objective reality of the external
world", is badly framed and conducted worse and is to a great degree

Types of error of reasoning as categorised in scholastic logic.

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM

441

futile and superfluous. (I refer here also to the paper presented at
the Congress of History of Science, held in London in June— July
1 93 1.) From the point of view of a popular manual the whole
treatment is more a response to an intellectual pedantic itch than
to any logical necessity. The popular public does not think that a
problem such as whether the external world exists objectively can
even be asked. One just has to enunciate the problem in these
terms to provoke an irresistible and gargantuan outburst of laughter.
The public "believes" that the external world is objectively real,
but it is precisely here that the question arises: what is the origin
of this "belier' and what critical value does it "objectively" have?
In fact the belief is of religious origin, even if the man who shares it
is indifferent to religion. Since all religions have taught and do
teach that the world, nature, the universe were created by God
before the creation of man, and therefore man found the world all
ready made, catalogued and defined once and for all, this belief has
become an iron fact of "common sense" and survives with the
same solidity even if religious feeling is dead or asleep. It follows
therefore that to base oneself on this experience of common sense
in order to destroy the subjectivist conception by "poking fun" at
it has a rather "reactionary" significance, an implicit return to
religious feeling. Indeed Catholic writers and orators have recourse
to the same means in order to obtain the same effect of corrosive
ridicule.*

In the paper presented at the London Congress the author of
the Popular Manual replies implicitly to this observation (which,
though it has its importance, is of an external character), noting
that Berkeley, to whom we owe the first worked out enunciation
of the subjectivist conception, was an archbishop 88 (from which, it
seems, one could deduce the religious origin of the theory) and then
saying that only "Adam", finding himself on the world for the first
time, could think that the world exists only because he thinks (and
here again the religious origin of the theory is insinuated, though
without much, or any, force of conviction) .

* The Church (through the Jesuits and in particular the neo-scholastics:
Universities of Louvain and of the Sacred Heart in Milan) has attempted to
absorb positivism and indeed takes advantage of this reasoning to ridicule the
idealists in the eyes of the crowd: "The idealists are the people who think that
this or that tower only exists because you think it; if you didn't think it the tower
would no longer exist."

88 George Berkeley subsequently became Bishop of Cloyne, in Ireland, but
he was only a minor cleric at the time when, in his youth, he published bis
subjectivist philosophy.

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The problem on the other hand, it seems to me, is this : how can
one explain how such a conception, which is certainly not pure
futility, even for a philosophy of praxis, should today, when exposed
to the public, provoke only laughter and mockery? This seems to
me the most typical cause of the distance that has grown up
between science and life, between certain groups of intellectuals —
who are however in "central" positions of command in high
culture — on the one hand, and the great popular masses on the
other; and a cause also of the way in which the language of philo-
sophy has become a jargon which produces the same effect as that
of Harlequin. But if common sense finds it funny, the philosopher
of praxis should all the same look for an explanation both of the
real meaning which the conception has and of the reason why it
was born and became diffused among the intellectuals, and also of
the reason why it is found laughable by common sense. Without
doubt the subjectivist conception is proper to modern philosophy
in its most achieved and advanced form, in that it gave birth to,
and was superseded by, historical materialism, a philosophy which,
in its theory of superstructures, poses in realistic and historicist
terms what traditional philosophy expressed in a speculative form.
A demonstration of this point, which is hardly referred to in the
book, would have the greatest cultural significance because it would
put an end to a whole series of futile and irrelevant discussions and
permit an organic development of the philosophy of praxis even to
the point of it becoming the hegemonic exponent of high culture.
It is surprising that there has been no proper affirmation and
development of the connection between the idealist assertion of the
reality of the world as a creation of the human spirit and the affirma-
tion made by the philosophy of praxis of the historicity and
transience of ideologies on the grounds that ideologies are expres-
sions of the structure and are modified by modifications of the
structure.

The question is closely connected, for obvious reasons, with the
question of the value of the so-called exact or physical sciences and
the position they have come to acquire within the philosophy of
praxis, a position of near-fetishism, in which indeed they are
regarded as the only true philosophy or knowledge of the world.

But what are we to understand by the subjectivist conception of
reality? Can we take up any one of the countless subjectivist
theories thought up by a whole series of philosophers and professors
stretching right through into solipsism? It is clear that here again
the philosophy of praxis can be compared only with Hegelianism,

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM

443

which represents the most brilliant and achieved form of this concep-
tion, and that from subsequent theories one need take into considera-
tion only certain partial aspects and instrumental values. It is also
worth looking into the more bizarre forms taken by the conception,
whether amongst its adherents or amongst its critics of greater or
lesser intelligence. Thus it is worth recalling what Tolstoy writes
in his Memoirs of Childhood, Boyhood and Youth. He writes there
that he became so enthused with the subjectivist conception of
reality that he often used to make himself dizzy with suddenly
turning faceabout, convinced that he could thus capture the
moment in which he would see nothing because his spirit would
not have had time to "create" reality (or something of the kind:
the passage of Tolstoy is characteristic and of great literary
interest).*

Thus too in his Linee di filosofia critical (p. 159) Bernardino
Varisco writes: "I open the newspaper for information on the news;
how can you maintain that I myself created the news by opening
the paper?" That Tolstoy should have given such an immediate
and mechanical significance to the subjectivist proposition is under-
standable. But is it not incredible that Varisco should write in this
way, for, although nowadays he is oriented towards religion and
transcendental dualism, he is nevertheless a serious scholar and
should know his own subject? Varisco's is a common-sense critique,
and it is worth noting that such a critique is disregarded by the
idealist philosophers despite its extreme importance in hindering
the diffusion of a mode of thought and of a culture. One can recall
an article by Mario Missiroli in U Italia Letteraria, where he writes

* L. Tolstoy. Childhood, Boyhood and Touth. Ch. XIX of the "Boyhood" section.

"But by none of my philosophical tendencies was I so carried away as by
scepticism, which at one time led me to the verge of insanity. I imagined that
besides myself nobody existed in the universe, that objects were not objects at
all, but images which appeared only when I paid attention to them, and that
as soon as I left off thinking of them these images immediately disappeared. In a
word, I coincided with Schelling in the conviction that not objects exist but my
relation to them. There were moments when, under the influence of this idee fixe,
I reached such a state of insanity that I sometimes looked rapidly round to one
side, hoping to catch emptiness (le ne'ant) unawares where I was not."

Apart from the Tolstoy example, recall the facetious way in which a journalist
described the "professional or traditional" philosopher (represented by Croce
in the chapter "The Philosopher") who had sat for years at bis desk staring at
the ink-well and asking himself "Is this ink-well inside me or outside?".
87 B. Varisco, Linee di filosofia critica, 1925. Bernardino Varisco (1850-1933) was
trained as a scientist and became a noted positivist philosopher, but gradually
moved towards idealism and then to a form of religious philosophy which saw
in God the "absolute subject" validating the reality of the world.

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that he would feel very embarrassed if he found himself obliged,
in front of an ordinary public and in debate with a neo-scholastic,
to defend, for example, the subjectivist point of view. He also
observes how Catholicism tends, in its competition with idealist
philosophy, to appropriate to its side natural and physical science.
Elsewhere Missiroli has written that he foresees a period of decline
of speculative philosophy and an ever-increasing diffusion of the
experimental and "realistic" sciences. (In this other text, however,
published by II Saggiatore, he also foresees a wave of anti-clericalism.
In other words he apparently no longer believes in the appropriation
of science by Catholicism.) Also worth recalling is the "pumpkin
polemic" 88 to be found in the volume of writings of Roberto
Ardigd (Scritti vari, collected and arranged by G. Marchesini,
Lemonnier, 1922). In a minor provincial clerical paper, some
writer (a priest of the Episcopal Curia), in order to disqualify
Ardigd in the eyes of a popular public, called him more or less
"one of those philosophers who maintain that the cathedral (of
Mantua or wherever it may be) only exists because they think it,
and when they cease to think it the cathedral disappears" (etc.), a
charge which was sharply resented by Ardigo who was a positivist
and agreed with the Catholics as to the way of conceiving external
reality.

It must be demonstrated that while the "subjectivist" conception
has had its usefulness as a criticism of the philosophy of transcendence
on the one hand and the naive metaphysics of common sense and
of philosophical materialism on the other, it can find its truth and
its historicist interpretation only in the concept of superstructures.
As for its speculative form, it is no more than a mere philosophical
romance.*

The point that must be made against the Popular Manual is that
it has presented the subjectivist conception just as it appears from
the point of view of common-sense criticism and that it has adopted
the conception of the objective reality of the external world in its
most trivial and uncritical sense without so much as a suspicion that

88 The so-called polemica della zucca.

* A reference to a somewhat more realistic interpretation of subjectivism in
classical German philosophy can be found in a review by G. De Ruggiero of
some posthumous writings (letters, I think) of B. Constant published in Critica
some years ago. 9B

8 * The book referred to is the Journal intime et lettres a safamille of Benjamin
Constant (1767-1830), reviewed in Critica, January 1929.

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM

445

it can run into objections on the grounds of mysticisnij as indeed
it has.*

However, if one analyses this idea it is not all that easy to justify
a view of external objectivity understood in such a mechanical way.
It might seem that there can exist an extra-historical and extra-
human objectivity. But who is the judge of such objectivity? Who
is able to put himself in this kind of "standpoint of the cosmos in
itself" and what could such a standpoint mean ? It can indeed be
maintained that here we are dealing with a hangover of the concept
of God, precisely in its mystic form of a conception of an uninown
God. Engels' formulation that "the unity of the world consists in
its materiality demonstrated by the long and laborious development
of philosophy and natural science" 91 contains the germ of the correct
conception in that it has recourse to history and to man in order
to demonstrate objective reality. Objective always means "humanly
objective" which can be held to correspond exactly to "historically
subjective" : in other words, objective would mean "universal sub-
jective". 92 Man knows objectively in so far as knowledge is real
for the whole human race historically unified in a single unitary
cultural system. But this process of historical unification takes
place through the disappearance of the internal contradictions
which tear apart human society, while these contradictions them-
selves are the condition for the formation of groups and for the
birth of ideologies which are not concretely universal but are
immediately rendered transient by the practical origin of their
substance. There exists therefore a struggle for objectivity (to free
oneself from partial and fallacious ideologies) and this struggle is
the same as the struggle for the cultural unification of the human
race. What the idealists call "spirit" is not a point of departure but

* In the text presented to the London Congress the author of the Popular
Manual refers to an accusation of mysticism, attributing it to Sombart and dis-
missing it contemptuously. Sombart certainly took it from Croce. 90

,0 Werner Sombart (1863 1941): German economist and sociologist who
became an ideologue of the conservative Right in the Weimar period.

91 F. Engels, Anti-Diihring (Herr Eugen Duhring's Revolution in Science, translated
by Emil Bums, London [n.d.], p. 54). "The real unity of the world consists
in its materiality, and this is proved not by a few juggling phrases but by a long
and tedious development of philosophy and natural science."

M The original phrase is universale soggetlivo which is slightly ambiguous, as it
could also be translated "subjective universal". The basic sense however would
be the same: viz. that the unity of knowledge and being demanded by the sub-
jectivists can only avoid the pitfalls of arbitrary relativism when there is a single
knowing subject and an undivided human race so that knowledge becomes the
same for all.

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a point of arrival, it is the ensemble of the superstructures moving
towards concrete and objectively universal unification and it is not
a unitary presupposition.

Up to now experimental science has provided the terrain on
which a cultural unity of this kind has reached its furthest extension.
This has been the element of knowledge that has contributed most
to unifying the "spirit" and making it more universal. It is the most
objectivised and concretely universalised subjectivity.

The idea of "objective" in metaphysical materialism would
appear to mean an objectivity that exists even apart from man;
but when one affirms that a reality would exist even if man did not,
one is either speaking metaphorically or one is falling into a form
of mysticism. We know reality only in relation to man, and since
man is historical becoming, knowledge and reality are also a
becoming and so is objectivity, etc.

Engels' phrase that "the materiality of the world is demon-
strated by the long and laborious development of philosophy and
natural science" should be analysed and made more precise. Does
science mean theoretical activity or the practical-experimental
activity of scientists, or a synthesis of the two ? One might say that
the typical unitary process of reality is found here in the experi-
mental activity of the scientist, which is the first model of dialectical
mediation between man and nature, and the elementary historical
cell through which man puts himself into relation with nature by
means of technology, knows her and dominates her. There can be
no doubt that the rise of the experimental method separates two
historical worlds, two epochs, and initiates the process of dissolution
of theology and metaphysics and the process of development of
modern thought whose consummation is in the philosophy of
praxis. Scientific experiment is the first cell of the new method of
production, of the new form of active union of man and nature.
The scientist-experimenter is also a worker, not a pure thinker, and
his thought is continually controlled by practice and vice versa,
until there is formed the perfect unity of theory and practice.

The neo-scholastic Casotti writes:*

"The researches of naturalists and biologists presuppose life and
real organisms already in existence", an expression which relates
to that of Engels in Anti-Diihring.

Agreement of Catholicism and Aristotelianism on the question of
the objectivity of the real.

Mario Casotti, Maestro e scalar o [Milan, 1930], p. 49.

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM

447

To understand exactly what might be meant by the problem of
the reality of the external world it might be worth taking up the
example of the notions of "East" and "West" which do not cease
to be "objectively real" even though analysis shows them to be no
more than a conventional, that is "historico-cultural" construction.
(The terms "artificial" and "conventional" often indicate "his-
torical" facts which are products of the development of civilisation
and not just rationalistically arbitrary or individually contrived
constructions.) One can also recall the example contained in a
little book by Bertrand Russell. 93 Russell says approximately this :
"We cannot, without the existence of man on the earth, think of
the existence of London or Edinburgh, but we can think of the
existence of two points in space, one to the North and one to the
South, where London and Edinburgh now are." It could be
objected that without the existence of man one cannot think of
"thinking", one canot think at all of any fact or relationship which
exists only in so far as man exists. What would North-South or
East— West mean without man ? They are real relationships and yet
they would not exist without man and without the development of
civilisation. Obviously East and West are arbitrary and conventional,
that is historical, constructions, since outside of real history every
point on the earth is East and West at the same time. This can
be seen more clearly from the fact that these terms have crystallised
not from the point of view of a hypothetical melancholic man in
general but from the point of view of the European cultured classes
who, as a result of their world-wide hegemony, have caused them
to be accepted everywhere. Japan is the Far East not only for
Europe but also perhaps for the American from California and even
for the Japanese himself, who, through English political culture,
may then call Egypt the Near East. So because of the historical
content that has become attached to the geographical terms, the
expressions East and West have finished up indicating specific
relations between different cultural complexes. Thus Italians often,
when speaking of Morocco, call it an "Eastern" country, to refer
to its Moslem and Arab civilisation. And yet these references are
real; they correspond to real facts, they allow one to travel by land
and by sea, to arrive where one has decided to arrive, to "foresee"

83 Bertrand Russell, The Problems of Philosophy, 1912. "The part of the earth's
surface where Edinburgh stands would be North of the part where London
stands even if there were no human beings to know about North and South
and even if there were no minds at all in the universe." (1967 edition, p. 56.)

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the future, to objectivise reality, to understand the objectivity of
the external world. Rational and real become one.

"Without having understood this relationship it seems that one
cannot understand the philosophy of praxis, its position in com-
parison with idealism and with mechanical materialism, the
importance and significance of the doctrine of superstructures. It
is not exact, as Croce maintains, to say that in the philosophy of
praxis the Hegelian "idea" has been replaced by the "concept"
of structure. The Hegelian "idea" has been resolved both in the
structure and in the superstructures and the whole way of con-
ceiving philosophy has been "historicised", that is to say a new
way of philosophising which is more concrete and historical than
what went before it has begun to come into existence.

Note. One must study the position of Professor Lukacs towards
the philosophy of praxis. It would appear that Lukacs maintains
that one can speak of the dialectic only for the history of men
and not for nature. He might be right and he might be wrong.
If his assertion presupposes a dualism between nature and man
he is wrong because he is falling into a conception of nature
proper to religion and to Graeco-Christian philosophy and also
to idealism which does not in reality succeed in unifying and
relating man and nature to each other except verbally. But if
human history should be conceived also as the history of nature
(also by means of the history of science) how can the dialectic
be separated from nature? Perhaps Lukacs, in reaction to the
baroque theories of the Popular Manual, has fallen into the opposite
error, into a form of idealism. 91

Judgment on Past Philosophies

The superficial critique of subjectivism in the Popular Manual is part
of a more general question, which is that of the attitude taken up

" It is not entirely clear on the basis of what evidence Gramsci makes this
admittedly very tentative criticism. In his own essay on Bukharin's Manual (see
introduction to this section) Lukacs observes ". . . [the realm of the dialectic]
is that of the historical process as a whole, whose individual, concrete, unrepeatable
moments reveal its dialectical essence precisely in the qualitative differences
between them and in the continuous transformation of their objective structure".
Even in his supposedly most "idealist" work, History and Class Consciousness, Lukacs
does not appear to maintain a dualism between natural and human history.
Nor does the reference in OC (p. I53n) to the essay Mein Weg &t Marx (1933)
bear out Gramsci's observation, which is probably based on reports of the
criticisms of Lukacs made by Deborin and others about that time.

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM

449

towards past philosophies and philosophers. To judge the whole of
past philosophy as delirium and folly is not only an anti-historical
error in that it makes the anachronistic claim that people in the
past should have thought as we do today ; it is also a real hang-over
from metaphysics in that it presumes a dogmatic form of thought,
valid at all times and in all countries, in the light of which the past
can be judged. Methodical anti-historicism is sheer metaphysics.
The fact that philosophical systems have been superseded does not
exclude their once having been historically valid and having per-
formed a necessary function. The fact that they fall by the wayside
is to be considered from the point of view of the entire development
of history and of the real dialectic. That they were worthy of falling
is not a moral judgment nor one of mental hygiene, made from an
objective point of view, but a dialectical-historical judgment. One
should compare Engels' presentation of Hegel's proposition that
"all that is rational is real and the real is rational", 95 a proposition
which should be equally valid for the past.

In the Manual the past is judged as "irrational" and "monstrous"
and the history of philosophy becomes a historical treatise on
teratology; because the starting-point is metaphysical. (The [Com-
munist] Manifesto, by contrast, contains the highest praises for the
world that is a-dying.) If this way of judging the past is a theoretical
error, a deviation from the philosophy of praxis, can it have any
educative value or inspire energetic activity? It would seem not,
because the matter becomes reduced to the presumption of being
someone by virtue of the simple fact of being born at the present
time instead of in some past century. But in every age there has
been a past and a present, and the title "contemporary" belongs
strictly to the world of comic anecdote.*

Immanence and the Philosophy of Praxis

The point is made in the Manual that the words "immanence"
and "immanent" are indeed used in the philosophy of praxis but
that "evidently" this use is purely metaphorical. Fine. But is it
explained what immanence and immanent "metaphorically" mean ?

05 In Ludwig Feuerbach and the End of Classical German Philosophy. The maxim
of Hegel comes from his Philosophy of Right. See note 57 on p. 366.

* The story is told of the little French bourgeois who had the word "Con-
temporary" printed on his visiting-card. He had thought he was a nobody and
then one day he discovered he was somebody after all — he was a contemporary.

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Why have these terms continued to be used and not been replaced ?
Is it just through a revulsion against creating new words? Usually,
when a new conception replaces the previous one, the previous
language continues to be used but is, precisely, used metaphorically.
The whole of language is a continuous process of metaphor, and
the history of semantics is an aspect of the history of culture;
language is at the same time a living thing and a museum of fossils
of life and civilisations. When I use the word "disaster" no one
can accuse me of believing in astrology, and when I say "by Jove !"
no one can assume that I am a worshipper of pagan divinities.
These expressions are however a proof that modern civilisation is
also a development of paganism and astrology. The term "imma-
nence" has in the philosophy of praxis a quite precise meaning
which is concealed beneath the metaphor and this meaning had
to be defined and made precise. Such a definition would in reality
have been genuinely "theory". The philosophy of praxis continues
the philosophy of immanence but purifies it of all its metaphysical
apparatus and brings it onto the concrete terrain of history. The
use is metaphorical only in the sense that the old immanence has
been superseded — that it has been superseded but is still assumed
as a link in the process of thought out of which the new usage has
come. And besides, is the new concept of immanence completely
new? It would seem that in Giordano Bruno, 96 for example, there
are many traces of a new conception of this type. The founders of
the philosophy of praxis were acquainted with Bruno. They knew
his writings and their marginal notes on copies of his works still
survive. Furthermore, Bruno was not without influence on classical
German philosophy (etc.). Here are a number of problems in the
history of philosophy which could be usefully pursued.

The question of the relationship between language and metaphor
is far from simple. Language, moreover, is always metaphorical.
If perhaps it cannot quite be said that all discourse is metaphorical
in respect of the thing or material and sensible object referred to
(or the abstract concept) so as not to widen the concept of metaphor
excessively, it can however be said that present language is meta-
phorical with respect to the meanings and the ideological content
which the words used had in preceding periods of civilisation. A

98 The notion that the thought of Bruno, together with that of other unorthodox
sixteenth-century philosophers such as Telesius and Campanclla, contained the
germs of a "modern" anti-transcendentalist form of thought is one that has been
repeatedly put forward by idealist commentators since Croce and has received
reserved support even from Marxists.

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM

451

treatise of semantics (that of Michel Breal 97 for example) can provide
an historically and critically reconstructed catalogue of the semantic
mutations of given groups of words. A failure to ta.ke account of
this fact, that is to say the absence of a critical and historicist con-
ception of the phenomenon of language, can lead to many errors in
both the scientific and the practical field:

1. An error of an aesthetic nature, which today is increasingly
being corrected but which in the past used to be a dominant
doctrine, is the notion that certain expressions as opposed to others
are "beautiful" in themselves in that they are crystallised meta-
phors: rhetoricians and grammarians drool on about certain little
phrases in which they discern God knows what abstract artistic
virtues and essentiality. The purely bookish "joy" of the philologist
ecstatic over the result of some of his etymological or semantic
researches is confused with artistic enjoyment proper. A recent
pathological example of this is the case of Giulio Bertoni's Linguaggio
e Poesia.

2. A practical error which has many adherents is the Utopia of
fixed and universal languages.

3. An arbitrary trend towards neologism, which arises from the
question posed by Pareto and the pragmatists about "language as
a source of error". 98 Both Pareto and the pragmatists claim to have
originated a new conception of the world or at least to have renewed
a particular science and therefore to have given a new meaning
or at least a new nuance to words or to have created new concepts.
They then find themselves faced with the fact that traditional
words, particularly as commonly used but also in the usage of the
educated classes and even in the usage of specialists in the same
science, continue to retain their old meaning despite the change of
content, and they react against it. Pareto creates his own "dic-
tionary", demonstrating his tendency to create his own "pure"
or "mathematical" language. The pragmatists theorise abstractly
about language as a source of error (see Prezzolini's little book) .
But is it possible to remove from language its metaphorical and
extensive meanings? It is not possible. Language is transformed
with the transformation of the whole of civilisation, through the
acquisition of culture by new classes and through the hegemony
exercised by one national language over others, etc., and what it

M. Breal, Essai de semantique, Paris, 1897: English translation, Semantics,
Studies in the Science of Meaning, London, 1 900.
88 See p. 348.

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does is precisely to absorb in metaphorical form the words of
previous civilisations and cultures. Nobody today thinks that the
word "dis-aster" is connected with astrology or can claim to be
misled about the opinions of someone who uses the word. Similarly
even an atheist can speak of "dis-grace" without being thought
to be a believer in predestination (etc.). 99 The new "metaphorical"
meaning spreads with the spread of the new culture, which further-
more also coins brand-new words or absorbs them from other
languages as loan-words giving them a precise meaning and there-
fore depriving them of the extensive halo they possessed in the
original language. Thus it is probable that for many people the
term "immanence" is known, understood and used for the first
time only in the new "metaphorical" sense given to it by the
philosophy of praxis.

Questions of Nomenclature and Content

One of the characteristics of the intellectuals as a crystallised social
group (one, that is, which sees itself as continuing uninterruptedly
through history and thus independent of the struggle of groups 100
rather than as the expression of a dialectical process through which
every dominant social group elaborates its own category of intel-
lectuals) is precisely that of connecting itself, in the ideological
sphere, with a preceding intellectual category by means of a
common conceptual nomenclature. Every new social organism
(type of society) creates a new superstructure whose specialised
representatives and standard-bearers (the intellectuals) can only be
conceived as themselves being "new" intellectuals who have come

89 Literally "dis-grace" means the withdrawal of Divine Grace, and therefore
logically implies a notion of predestination. Similarly "dis-aster" refers to an
unfavourable conjunction of the stars. Both words have, however, lost their
original connotations in the modern language. On the other hand, as Gramsci
points out in another note (MS. 1 59), the case for systematic neologism as a means
of avoiding any possible confusion in the application of terms has a long and
interesting history, In this note Gramsci refers to a conversation with Napoleon
in 1 805, recalled by Pietro Giordani some years later, in which Napoleon is reported
to have said "... I think that in science when something really new is discovered
a completely new word must be given to it, so that the idea remains precise and
distinct. If you give a new meaning to an old word, then however strongly you
assert that the new idea attached to that word has nothing in common with the
idea newly attributed to it the human mind cannot ever refrain from imagining
some resemblance and connection between the old and the new idea."

Euphemism (for reasons of censorship) for the class struggle. For the notion
below of the dominant social group elaborating its own category of intellectuals
see the essay "The Formation of the Intellectuals", pp. 5 14.

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM

453

out of the new situation and are not a continuation of the preceding
intellectual milieu. If the "new" intellectuals put themselves forward
as the direct continuation of the previous "intelligentsia", they are
not new at all (that is, not tied to the new social group which
organically represents the new historical situation) but are a con-
servative and fossilised left-over of the social group which has been
historically superseded. (This is another way of saying that the new
historical situation has not reached the level of development
necessary for it to have the capacity to create new superstructures
but continues to live in the worm-eaten integument of old history.)

It must however be borne in mind that no new historical situation,
however radical the change that has brought it about, completely
transforms language, at least in its external formal aspect. But the
content of language must be changed, even if it is difficult to have
an exact consciousness of the change in immediate terms. The
phenomenon is, moreover, historically complex and complicated by
the existence of characteristic cultures among the various strata of
the new social group, some of whom, in the ideological field, are
still immersed in the culture of preceding historical situations,
including sometimes the one that has most recently been superseded.
A class some of whose strata still have a Ptolemaic conception of
the world can none the less be the representative of a very advanced
historical situation. Ideologically backward (or at least in certain
aspects of their conception of the world, which remains discon-
nected and ingenuous), these strata are nevertheless very advanced
on a practical level, in terms, that is, of economic and political
function. If the task of the intellectuals is to determine and to
organise the reform of moral and intellectual life, in words to fit
culture to the sphere of practice, it is clear that "crystallised"
intellectuals are conservative and reactionary. For while the new
social group at least feels itself split off and distinct from its pre-
decessor, these intellectuals are not even conscious of this distinction,
but think that they can reconnect themselves with the past.

This is not to say, however, that the whole heritage of the past
must be rejected. There are "instrumental values" which cannot
but be absorbed in their entirety in order to continue to be
elaborated and refined. But how is one to distinguish the instru-
mental value from the transient philosophical value that has to be
rejected outright ? It often happens that, because one has accepted a
transient philosophical value belonging to a particular past tendency,
one then rejects an instrumental value from another tendency
because it conflicts with the first, even though this instrumental

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value could have been useful to express the new historical cultural
content.

Thus we have seen the term "materialism" accepted with its
past content, while the term "immanence" was rejected because
in the past it had a particular historical cultural content. The
difficulty of fitting literary expression to conceptual content and
the confusion of questions of terminology with questions of substance
and vice versa is typical of philosophical dilettantism and of the
lack of an historical sense in grasping the different moments of a
process of cultural development, typical, in other words, of an anti-
dialectical and dogmatic conception, imprisoned within the abstract
schemas of formal logic.

The term "materialism" in the first fifty years of the nineteenth
century should be understood not only in its restricted technical
philosophical sense but with the more extended meaning that it
acquired polemically in the debates that grew up in Europe with
the rise and victorious development of modern culture. The name
materialism was given to any philosophical doctrine which excluded
transcendence from the realm of thought. It was given therefore,
not only to pantheism and immanentism, but to any practical
attitude inspired by political realism — i.e. to any that was opposed
to certain of the worst currents of political romanticism such as
the popularisations of the doctrines of Mazzini 101 which carried
on all the time about "missions" and "ideals" and suchlike vague,
nebulous and sentimental abstractions. Even today in Catholic
polemics the term materialism is often used in this sense; materialism
is the opposite of spiritualism in the strict sense, i.e. religious
spiritualism, and therefore one can include under the heading
materialism the whole of Hegelianism and classical German philo-
sophy in general, as well as sensationalism and the philosophy of
the French Enlightenment. Similarly, in the terminology of common
sense, materialism includes everything that tends to locate the
purpose of life on this earth and not in paradise. Any form of

101 Not only the popularisations but Mazzini's original doctrines themselves
were in point of fact extremely vague and devoid of content. Despite his active
participation in the Roman Republic of 1849, Mazzini never succeeded, par-
ticularly in the crucial years i860 70, in formulating a clear policy towards the
position of the Church and the Papacy, and his slogan "Dio e popolo" (God and
People) provided a political and ideological cover for all sorts of liberal and neo-
Catholic sentimentalisms. On an ideological level (and Mazzini's influence after
1850 was mainly ideological rather than directly political) Mazzinianism repre-
sented the degeneration of the romantic patriotic impulse of the Risorgimento,
co-incidental with the rise of "materialistic" positivism.

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM

455

economic activity which went beyond the bounds of mediaeval
production was "materialism" because it seemed an "end in
itself", economics for the sake of economics, activity for the sake of
activity, just as today for the average European America is
"materialist" because the use of machinery and the scale of firms
and businesses goes beyond the limit which the average European
considers "just" — that within which "spiritual" demands are not
mortified. Thus a polemical riposte made by feudal culture against
the developing bourgeoisie has now been appropriated by European
bourgeois culture, on the one hand against a more developed form
of capitalism than the European, and on the other hand against
the practical activity of subaltern social groups. (For these groups
at the outset and for a whole historical epoch, until they have been
able to construct an economy and a social structure of their own,
activity cannot but be prevalently economic or at least expressed
in economic and structural terms.) Traces of this conception of
materialism remain in language. The German geistlich [spiritual]
also means "clerical", proper to the clergy, and so does the Russian
dukhoviez. How prevalent it is can be seen from many writers of the
philosophy of praxis, for whom, precisely, religion, theism, etc., are
the points of reference for recognising "thorough-going materialists".

One of the reasons, and perhaps the most important, for the
reduction of historical materialism to traditional metaphysical
materialism is to be looked for in the fact that historical materialism
could not but be a mainly critical and polemical phase of philosophy,
while there was a need for an achieved and perfected system. But
achieved and perfected systems are always the work of single philoso-
phers, and in them, side by side with the historically relevant part,
the part, that is, which corresponds to contemporary conditions of
life, there always exists an abstract part, which is "ahistorical" in
the sense that it is tied to preceding philosophies and corresponds to
external pedantic necessities of the architecture of the system or is
due to personal idiosyncracies. Therefore the philosophy of an
epoch cannot be any systematic tendency or individual system. It is
the ensemble of all individual philosophies and philosophical ten-
dencies, plus scientific opinions, religion and common sense. Can a
system of this type be created artificially ? And if so, by individuals
or by groups? Critical activity is the only kind possible, particularly
in the sense of posing and resolving critically the problems that
present themselves as an expression of historical development. But
the first problem which has to be formulated and understood is
this: that the new philosophy cannot coincide with any past system,

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under whatever name. Identity of terms does not mean identity of
concepts.

A book worth looking at in connection with this question is
Lange's History of Materialism. 102 This work may have been more
or less superseded by subsequent studies of individual materialist
philosophers, but from our point of view its cultural importance
remains intact. A whole series of adherents of historical materialism
have referred to it, for information on their forerunners and for the
fundamental concepts of materialism. It could be said, schematically,
that what has happened is this. One starts from the dogmatic
presupposition that historical materialism is straightforward tradi-
tional materialism slightly revised and corrected (corrected by the
"dialectic", which therefore becomes absorbed as a chapter of
formal logic and not as a logic of its own, that is a theory of know-
ledge) ; and one then studies in Lange what traditional materialism
was, and concepts of this materialism are represented as the concepts
of historical materialism. So that it could be said that the major
part of the corpus of concepts that goes under the label of historical
materialism have as their founder and fountainhead none other
than Lange. For this reason the study of this work is of great
cultural and critical interest, all the more so because Lange is a
conscientious and acute historian who has a quite precise, definite
and limited conception of materialism and therefore, to the great
surprise and even indignation of certain people (such as Plekhanov)
does not regard as materialist either historical materialism or even
the philosophy of Feuerbach. 103 Here again one can see how the
terminology is conventional but not without importance in making
for errors and deviations as soon as one forgets that it is always
necessary to return to the cultural sources in order to identify the
exact value of concepts, since there may be different heads under
the same hat. It is well known, moreover, that the originator of the
philosophy of praxis [Marx] never called his own conception
materialist and that when writing about French materialism he
criticises it and affirms that the critique ought to be more exhaus-
tive. 104 Thus he never uses the formula "materialist dialectic", but

102 Friedrich Albert Lange, Geschichte des Maierialismus und Kritik seiner Bedeutmg
in der Gegenwart, 2nd revised edition 1873 75.

103 Feuerbachian materialism, as defined and attacked in The German Ideology
and in the Theses on Feuerbach, is not strictly materialist in that it is founded on a
basic dualism between an objective reality and a separate realm of human
subjectivity.

104 The reference would appear to be to the section on French Materialism
in The Holy Family (VI, 3(d)), except that in this section Marx is far less critical
of French Materialism in its classic form than Gramsci suggests.

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM

457

calls it "rational" as opposed to "mystical", which gives the term
"rational" a quite precise meaning.* 105

Science and the Instruments of Science

It is affirmed, in the Popular Manual, that the progress of science is
dependent, as an effect from a cause, on the development of the
instruments of science. This is a corollary of the general principle
adopted by the Manual, originating with Loria, 106 about the
historical function of the "instrument of production and work"
(which is substituted for the ensemble of social relations of produc-
tion). But in the science of geology no instruments except a hammer
are used and the technical progress in hammers is in no way
comparable with progress in geology. If the history of sciences can
be reduced, as the Manual claims, to the history of their particular
instruments, how can one produce a history of geology? It is no
good saying that geology is based also on the progress of a complex
of other sciences so that the history of the instruments of these
sciences helps to describe the history of geology, because with this
let-out one ends up with an empty generalisation and a recourse
to ever-wider movements right up to the relations of production.
It is very apt that the motto of geology should be "mente et malleo"
[with the mind and with the hammer].

It can be said in general that the advance of science cannot be
materially documented. The history of the sciences can at most be
brought alive in the memory, and that not in all cases, through
the description of the successive perfecting of the instruments
which have been one means of advance and through the description
of the machines which have been applications of the science itself.
The principal "instruments" of scientific progress are of an intel-
lectual (and even political) and methodological order, and Engels
has written 107 that "intellectual instruments" are not born from

* On this question it is worth looking again at the essays of Antonio Labriola.

106 See Marx's Afterword to the Second German Edition of Capital, where
he argues that in Hegel the dialectic stood on its head and that in order to make
it stand properly on its feet it is necessary to extract the rational kernel from the
mystic shell. The rational dialectic, therefore, is defined in specific opposition to
the way it was developed by Hegel, but this is not tantamount to saying that
from "idealist" it should become "materialist", which is a Feuerbachian rather
than a Marxist conception.

106 For Loria see note 108 on p. 458.

107 See Engels, Anti-Diihring (cit.), Introduction, ". . . The art of working with
concepts is not inborn and also is not given with ordinary everyday consciousness,
but requires real thought, and . . . this thought similarly has a long empirical
history, not more and not less than empirical natural science."

See also the Letter to Starkenburg (cit. above, note 74).

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nothing and are not innate in man, but are acquired, have developed
and are developing historically. How great a contribution to the
progress of science was made by the expulsion from the scientific
fields of the authority of Aristotle and the Bible? And was not this
expulsion due to the general progress of modern society? Recall
the example of theories on the origin of springs. The first exact
formulation of the way that springs are produced is to be found in
the Encyclopaedia of Diderot, etc. While the ordinary people can be
shown to have had correct opinions on the question before then,
in the scientific world there were a succession of the most arbitrary
and bizarre theories which aimed to reconcile the Bible and
Aristotle with the experimental observations of good sense.

Another question is this. If the affirmation in the Manual were
true, what would distinguish the history of the sciences from the
history of technology? With the development of the "material"
instruments of science, which begins historically with the coming
of the experimental method, a particular science has developed,
the science of instruments, which is closely connected with the
general development of production and technology.*

How superficial the affirmation in the Manual is can be seen
from the example of the mathematical sciences which have no need
of any material instruments (the development of the abacus, is not,
I think, a valid counter-example) and which are themselves an
"instrument" of all the natural sciences.

The " Technical Instrument"

The notion of the "technical instrument" in the Popular Manual is
completely mistaken. From Oroce's essay on Achille Loria 108 in
Materialismo storico ed economia marxistica it seems that Loria was
the first person who arbitrarily (or else through the puerile desire

* On this question see G. Boffito, Gli strumenti delta scienza e la scienza degli
strumenti, Libreria Internazionale Seeber, Firenze, 1929.

108 Croce's essay on Loria dates from 1896, when Croce was a Marxist, albeit
of an unorthodox kind, and was reprinted in the volume Materialismo storico ed
economia marxistica (1900. Collected Works, Vol. II, 4, pp. 23-56). Basically it
is an amplification of the attack on Loria's vulgarisation and plagiarism of Marx
made by Engels in the Preface to Capital, Vol. II. Achille Loria (1857-1943)
was an academic economist who put himself forward as an original thinker and
enjoyed a certain vogue, not only in Italy, in the 1 880s and 1 890s. Loria's theory,
to which he gave the name "historical economism", was a mish-mash of vulgar
economy and vulgar Marxism, of no intrinsic distinction but interesting, in
Gramsci's eyes, as an example of "certain degenerate and bizarre aspects of the
mentality of a group of Italian intellectuals and therefore of the national
culture. . . .". (Int. p. 169) to which he gave the name "lorianismo".

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM 459

for original discovery) put the expression "technical instrument"
in the place of "material forces of production" or "complex of
social relations".

The Preface to A Contribution to the Critique of Political Economy
states:

"In the social production of their life men enter into relations
with each other which are determined, necessary and independent
of their will, that is into relations of production, which correspond
to a given level of development of the material forces of pro-
duction. The ensemble of these relations constitutes the economic
structure of society, in other words the real base on top of which
is raised a political and juridical superstructure and to which
correspond given social forms of consciousness. ... At a given
point in their development, the material productive forces of
society enter into contradiction with the pre-existing relations of
production (that is the property relations, which is the juridical
equivalent of that expression) within which these forces had
previously moved. These relations of production, from a form of
development of the productive forces, are converted into an
obstacle to them. And then there arrives an age of social revolu-
tion. With the change in the economic base the colossal over-
hanging superstructure is revolutionised and collapses more or
less rapidly ... A social formation does not perish until all the
productive forces for which there is room in it have been developed
and new relations of production do not take their place until the
material conditions of their existence have matured in the womb
of the existing society."

(Translation by Antonio Labriola in his essay, In Memoria [In
Memory of the Communist Manifesto].) 109

And here is a rehash by Loria (taken from La terra e il sistema
sociale, p. 19, Verona, Drucker, 1892; Croce maintains that similar
statements are to be found in other writings of Loria) :

"To a certain stage of the productive instrument there corre-
sponds, and is built upon it, a given system of production, and

le * Quoted in Croce, Materialismo (cit.), pp. 41 2, which is also the source
for the Loria quotation and certain further remarks below. Since Gramsci
had access to few Marxist texts while in prison, this quotation from Marx, here
retranslated from the Italian version, came to assume exceptional importance
for him.

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thus of economic relations, which then shape the whole mode of
being of society. But the incessant evolution of productive
methods generates sooner or later a radical metamorphosis of
the technical instrument which renders intolerable the system of
production and economy on which the previous stage of technique
was founded. Then the outdated economic form is destroyed
through a social revolution and replaced by a superior economic
form, which corresponds to the new phase of the productive
instrument."

Croce adds that in Capital (volume I, Ch. Ill, sec. 3, and
Ch. XIV) and elsewhere the importance of technical inventions is
stressed and a history of techniques is invoked, but that there is no
text in which the "technical instrument" is turned into the unique
and supereme cause of economic development. The passage from
ZurKritik contains the phrases "level of development of the material
forces of production", "mode of production of material life", "eco-
nomic conditions of production" and the like, which certainly affirm
that economic development is determined by material conditions,
but it never reduces these to the mere "metamorphosis of the tech-
nical instrument". Croce then adds that the founder of the philo-
sophy of praxis never framed his enquiry around the ultimate
cause of economic life. "His philosophy was not that cheap. He
had not 'flirted' in vain with the Hegelian dialectic to go then in
search of ultimate causes." 110

It is worth noting that the Popular Manual does not quote the
passage from the Preface to the £ur Kritik nor even refer to it. This
is pretty strange, given that this is the most important authentic
source for. a reconstruction of the philosophy of praxis. 111 Further-
more, in this respect the mode of thinking expounded in the Manual
is no different from that of Loria, if not indeed even more superficial
and open to criticism. It is hard to tell what the Manual means by
structure, superstructure or technical instrument. All its general
concepts are nebulous and vague. The technical instrument is

110 Croce,, op. cit., p. 43. For Marx's "flirting" or "coquetting" (kokettieren)
with Hegel see the Afterword to Capital, I.

111 See "Questions of Method", pp. 382-386 above. Gramsci's position was
that Marx, engaged for the last years of his life on the concrete study of economics,
left behind little writing of a philosophical nature, with the result that the gaps
in Marx's philosophy tended to be filled by Engels. With these restrictions, rein-
forced by the fact that Gramsci either could not or did not know certain works
of Marx whose importance has emerged subsequently, his emphasis on the unique
importance of the Preface is of extreme importance, both as a source for Gramsci's
own Marxism and as a guideline for other Marxists.

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM

461

conceived in such a generic way that it can mean any form of
equipment or utensil, including the instruments used by scientists
in their experiments and . . . musical instruments. This way of
treating the question just makes matters uselessly complicated.

If one starts from this baroque way of thinking a whole series of
baroque questions are thrown up. For example, are libraries
structure or superstructure? Or the specialised laboratories of
scientists? If it can be maintained that an art or a science is
developed through the developments of its technical instruments,
why could one not maintain quite the contrary or argue that
certain instrumental forms are structure and superstructure at the
same time ? Thus it could be said that certain superstructures have
a particular structure of their own while remaining superstructures.
The art of typography would be the material structure of a whole
series of ideologies, indeed of all ideologies, and the existence of
the printing industry would be sufficient to provide a materialistic
justification of the whole of history. There would then remain the
case of pure mathematics and algebra which, having n o instruments
of their own, could not develop. It is clear that the whole theory
of the technical instrument in the Manual is pure abracadabra and
comparable to the theory of memory concocted by Croce to explain
why artists are not content to conceive their works purely in an
ideal form but write them or sculpt them, etc. (with Tilgher's
phenomenal objection that in the case of architecture it would be
a bit much to think of an engineer constructing a building just to
preserve the memory of his idea). There is no doubt that all this is
just an infantile deviation of the philosophy of praxis generated by
the baroque conviction that the more one goes back to "material"
objects the more orthodox one must be.

Objection to empiricism

An enquiry into a series of facts to discover the relations between
them presupposes a "concept" that permits one to distinguish that
series from other possible series of facts. How can there take place a
choice of facts to be adduced as proof of the truth of one's own
assumption if one does not have a pre-existing criterion of choice ?
But what is this criterion of choice to be, if not something superior
to each single fact under enquiry? An intuition, a conception,
which must be regarded as having a complex history, a process that
is to be connected with the whole process of the development of
culture (etc.). This observation may be connected with the other

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one on the "sociological law", in which one simply repeats the
same fact twice, the first time as a fact and the second time as a
law, and which is a sophism of the double fact and not a law at all.

Concept of "orthodoxy"

From a few of the points developed above it emerges that the
concept of "orthodoxy" requires to be renewed and brought back
to its authentic origins. Orthodoxy is not to be looked for in this
or that adherent of the philosophy of praxis, or in this or that
tendency connected with currents extraneous to the original doctrine,
but in the fundamental concept that the philosophy of praxis is
"sufficient unto itself", that it contains in itself all the fundamental
elements needed to construct a total and integral conception of the
world, a total philosophy and theory of natural science, and not only
that but everything that is needed to give life to an integral practical
organisation of society, that is, to become a total integral
civilisation.

This concept of orthodoxy, thus renewed, helps to give a better
definition of the attribute "revolutionary" which is applied with
such facility to various conceptions of the world, theories or philo-
sophies. Christianity was revolutionary in relation to paganism
because it was an element of complete split between the supporters
of the old and new worlds. A theory is "revolutionary" precisely to
the extent that it is an element of conscious separation and distinc-
tion into two camps and is a peak inaccessible to the enemy camp.
To maintain that the philosophy of praxis is not a completely
autonomous and independent structure of thought in antagonism
to all traditional philosophies and religions, means in reality that
one has not severed one's links with the old world, if indeed one
has not actually capitulated. The philosophy of praxis has no need
of support from alien sources. It is sufficiently robust and rich in
new truths for the old world to come to it to supply itself with a
more modern and efficacious arsenal of weapons. This means that
the philosophy of praxis is beginning to exercise its own hegemony
over traditional culture. But traditional culture, which is still
strong and above all is more polished and refined, is trying to react
like Greece in defeat which finished by vanquishing its uncouth
Roman conqueror.

It could be said that a large part of the philosophy of Croce
represents this attempt to reabsorb the philosophy of praxis and
incorporate it as the handmaid of traditional culture. But, as the

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM 4.63

Manual demonstrates, even some self-styled "orthodox" adherents
of the philosophy of praxis fall into the trap and themselves con-
ceive their philosophy as surbordinated to a general (vulgar)
materialist philosophy just as others are to idealism. (This does not
mean that there are no points of relationship between the philosophy
of praxis and the old philosophies, but they are less than those that
exist between Christianity and Greek philosophy.) In Otto Bauer's
little book on religion 112 one can find a number of references to the
combinations that have been given rise to by this erroneous notion
that the philosopy of praxis is not autonomous and independent
but needs the support, as need arises, of some other materialist or
idealist philosophy. Bauer maintains as a political thesis the
agnosticism of parties and the granting of permission to party
members to group themselves into idealists, materialists, atheists,
catholics, etc.

Note. People tend to look for a general philosophy underlying
the philosophy of praxis and implicitly to deny to it any
originality of content and method. One case of this error would
appear to be this: that a confusion is made between on the one
hand the personal culture of the founder of the philosophy of
praxis, i.e. the philosophical currents and the great philosophers
in which he was very interested in his youth and whose language
he often reproduces (always however with detachment and often
with the observation that he uses it in order to make his own
concept easier to understand) and on the other the origins or
constituent parts of the philosophy of praxis. This error has a
long history, particularly in the field of literary criticism. It is
well known that the business of reducing great poetic works to
their sources became at one period the major task of many
distinguished scholars. This problem comes up in its external
form in so-called plagiaries, but it is also true that even in the
case of a number of "plagiaries" and indeed literal reproductions
it is not impossible to claim originality for the plagiarism or
reproduction. 113 Two notable examples can be cited: i. the
sonnet of Tansillo reproduced by Giordano Bruno in Degli eroici
furori (or in La Cena delle Ceneri) "Poiche spiegate ho l'ali al bel
desio", which in Tansillo was a love poem to the Marchesa del

11£ Otto Bauer, Sozialdemokratie, Religion und Kirche. See note 13 on p. 387.
118 Gramsci says "per Vopera plagiata 0 riprodotta", which is presumably a slip
of the pen.

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Vasto; 114 2. the verses for the dead of Dogali which D'Annunzio
put forward as his own, having in fact copied them word for word
from, a collection by Tommaseo of Serbian songs. 115 In both
Bruno and D'Annunzio these reproductions acquire a new and
original flavour which makes one forget their origins.

The study of the philosophical culture of a man like Marx is not
only interesting but necessary. But one must not forget that it
belongs exclusively to the field of the reconstruction of his intel-
lectual biography. The elements of Spinoza, Feuerbach, Hegel,
French materialism, etc., are in no way essential parts of the philo-
sophy of praxis, nor can that philosophy be reduced to those
elements. What is interesting is precisely the transcending of the
old philosophies, the new synthesis or the elements of a new
synthesis and the way of conceiving philosophy. One should further
bear in mind that the elements of this new mode of conceiving
philosophy are contained in aphorisms or in some way dispersed
throughout the writings of the founder of the philosophy of praxis,
and that it is necessary precisely to distinguish these elements and
develop them coherently. At the level of theory the philosophy of
praxis cannot be confounded with or reduced to any other philo-
sophy. Its originality lies not only in its transcending of previous
philosophies but also and above all in that it opens up a completely
new road, renewing from head to toe the whole way of conceiving
philosophy itself. At the level of historical biographical research,
however, one can study those interests which provided the occasion
for the philosophical activity of the founder of the philosophy of
praxis. Here one should bear in mind the psychology of the young
scholar who every so often allows himself to be intellectually
attracted by whatever new current he is studying and examining
and who forms his own individuality as a result of this very process —
a critical spirit and a power of original thought being generated
as a result of having tried out and compared with each other so
many contrasting ideas. For this one must therefore locate which

114 Luigi Tansillo (1510 1568) was a minor Renaissance poet, who appears
as one of the imaginary interlocutors of Giordano Bruno's dialogue Degli eroici
furori. In the dialogue Tansillo acts as the mouthpiece for Bruno's philosophy
and, as in this example from Dialogue III, is made to quote some of his own love
poetry as if its content were a desire not for a woman but for knowledge. The
aesthetic significance of this is discussed by Croce in an essay in Problemi di estetka
(1910) which is also Gramsci's source.

116 The battle of Dogali (1887) involved the annihilation of an entire Italian
advance guard during the imperialist campaign in Eritrea.

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM 4.65

elements he has incorporated and made homogeneous with his own
thought and especially what is new creation. There is no doubt
that Hegelianism is (relatively speaking) the most important of the
philosophical motivations of our author, particularly because it
attempted to go beyond the traditional conceptions of idealism and
materialism in a new synthesis which undoubtedly had a quite
exceptional importance and which represents a world-historical
moment of philosophical inquiry. So when the Manual says that
the term "immanence" in the philosophy of praxis is used in a
metaphorical sense, it is saying nothing. In reality the term
immanence has here acquired a special meaning which is not that
of the "pantheists" nor any other metaphysical meaning but one
which is new and needs to be specified. It has been forgotten that
in the case of a very common expression [historical materialism]
one should put the accent on the first term — "historical" — and not
on the second, which is of metaphysical origin. The philosophy of
praxis is absolute "historicism", the absolute secularisation and
earthliness of thought, an absolute humanism of history. It is
along this line that one must trace the thread of the new conception
of the world.

"Matter"

What does the Popular Manual mean by matter ? A popular hand-
book, even more than a book for specialists, particularly a book
like this which claims to be the first of its kind, must define exactly
not only its fundamental concepts, but its entire terminology, in
order to avoid the sources of error deriving from the popular and
vulgar usages of scientific words. Clearly, for the philosophy of
praxis, "matter" should be understood neither in the meaning that
it has acquired in natural science (physics, chemistry, mechanics,
etc. — meanings to be noted and studied in the terms of their
historical development), nor in any of the meanings that one finds
in the various materialistic metaphysics. The various physical
(chemical, mechanical, etc.) properties of matter which together
constitute matter itself (unless one is to fall back on a conception
of the Kantian noumenon) 116 should be considered, but only to the
extent that they become a productive "economic element". Matter
as such therefore is not our subject but how it is socially and
historically organised for production, and natural science should be

See note 61 on p. 367.

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seen correspondingly as essentially an historical category, a human
relation. Has the ensemble of the properties of all forms of matter
always been the same ? The history of the technical sciences shows
that it has not. For how long was the mechanical power of steam
neglected? Can it be claimed that this mechanical power existed
before it was harnessed by man-made machines? Might it not be
said in a sense, and up to a certain point, that what nature provides
the opportunity for are not discoveries and inventions of pre-
existing forces — of pre-existing qualities of matter — but "creations",
which are closely linked to the interests of society and to the develop-
ment and further necessities of development of the forces of
production? And might not the idealistic conception 117 according
to which nature is none other than the economic category be
reduced, once cleansed of its speculative superstructures, into the
terms of the philosophy of praxis and demonstrated to be historically
linked to and a development of that philosophy? In reality the
philosophy of praxis does not study a machine in order to know
about and to establish the atomic structure of its materials or the
physical, chemical and mechanical properties of its natural com-
ponents (which is the business of the exact sciences and of tech-
nology) but only in so far as it is a moment of the material forces
of production, is an object of property of particular social forces,
and expresses a social relation which in turn corresponds to a
particular historical period. The ensemble of the material forces
of production is the least variable element in historical development:
it is the one which at any given time can be ascertained and
measured with mathematical exactitude and can therefore give rise
to observations and criteria of an experimental character and thus
to the reconstruction of a solid skeleton of the historical process.
The variability of the ensemble of the material forces of production
can also be measured, and one can establish with a fair degree of
precision the point at which its development ceases to be merely
quantitative and becomes qualitative. The ensemble of the material
forces of production is at the same time a crystallisation of all past
history and the basis of present and future history : it is both a
document and an active and actual propulsive force. But the
concept of activity applied to forces of this kind must not be confused
or even compared with activity in either the physical or the meta-
physical sense. Electricity is historically active, not merely however

117 In Crocean metaphysics "Economics" is a distinct "category", along with
Logic, Aesthetics and Ethics. See General Introduction and also note 58 on p. 366.

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM 4.67

as a natural force (e.g. an electrical discharge which causes a fire)
but as a productive element dominated by man and incorporated
into the ensemble of the material forces of production, an object
of private property. As an abstract natural force electricity existed
even before its reduction to a productive force, but it was not
historically operative and was just a subject of hypothetical dis-
course in natural history (earlier still it was historical' 'nothingness",
since no one was interested in it or indeed knew anything about it).

These observations help to explain how the element of causality
used by the natural sciences to explain human history is in fact
quite an arbitrary assumption, if not actually a return to old
ideological interpretations. For example the Manual affirms that
modern atomic theory destroys individualism (Robinsonades). 118
But what does this mean? What is implied in this juxtaposition of
politics and scientific theories, if not that history is moved by these
scientific theories, in other words by ideologies? So that by trying
to be ultra-materialist one falls into a baroque form of abstract
idealism. And it cannot be maintained that it is not atomic theory
but the natural reality that the theory observes and describes that
has destroyed individualism, but without falling into further compli-
cated contradictions in that this natural reality is supposed to be
prior to the theory and therefore already operative even when
individualism was at its height. How could "atomistic" reality, if
it is and was a natural law, not have been always in operation
but have needed the construction of a theory on the part of mankind
for it to come into operation? Do men only obey the laws they
know, as if these laws were Acts of Parliament? And who could
have imposed on mankind observation of laws of which they were
unaware, on the principle of modern legislation according to which
ignorance of the law is no excuse ? Nor, again, can it be held that
the laws of a given natural science are identical with the laws of
history, or that, because the whole complex of scientific ideas is
a homogeneous unity, one can reduce one science to another or
one law to another. For in this case by what right does this par-
ticular element of physics rather than any other become the one
that can be reduced to the unity of the conception of the world ?

This is indeed just one of many elements in the Popular Manual
which demonstrate the superficial way in which it has posed the

118 "Robinsonades" is the name given (e.g. by Marx) to the speculative reason-
ing that derives forms of social life from the needs of an imaginary isolated
individual, after the pattern of Defoe's Robinson Crusoe.

468

GRAMSCI: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

problem of the philosophy of praxis and its failure to give to this
conception of the world its proper scientific autonomy and the
position due to it in relation to natural science — or even, what is
worse, in relation to that vague concept of science in general which
is typical of the vulgar popular conception which regards even
conjuring tricks as science. Is modern atomic theory a "definitive"
theory, established once and for all? What scientist would dare
make such an assertion? Might it not rather be simply a scientific
hypothesis which may be superseded, that is to say, absorbed into
a vaster and more comprehensive theory? Why then should
reference to this theory be so decisive and have put an end to the
question of individualism and of Robinsonades ? (Quite apart
from the fact that Robinsonades can sometimes be practical models
constructed to indicate a tendency or for the purposes of a demon-
stration ad absurdum'. even the author of the critical economy
[Marx] had recourse to Robinsonades.) But there are further
questions. If atomic theory is what the Manual makes it out to be,
given that the history of society is a series of upheavals and there
have been many forms of society whereas atomic theory would
appear to be the reflection of an ever-constant natural reality, how
then has society not always obeyed this law ? Or is it being claimed
that the change from the mediaeval corporate regime to economic
individualism was anti-scientific, a mistake of history and of nature?
According to the theory of praxis it is evident that it is not atomic
theory that explains human history but the other way about: in
other words that atomic theory and all scientific hypotheses and
opinions are superstructures.*

Quantity and Quality

In the Popular Manual it is said (but only in passing, for the assertion
is not justified or evaluated and does not express a fertile concept,
but is casual, with no links with what goes before or comes after)
that every society is more than the mere sum of its individual
components. This is true in the abstract, but what does it mean
concretely? The explanation given — empirically — is often baroque.
It is said that a hundred cows taken one at a time are quite different
from a hundred cows together which are then a herd — thus reducing
the question to one of terminology. Similarly it is said that in

* Atomistic theory can be used to explain biological man as an aggregate of
various bodies and so explain the society of man. Talk about a comprehensive
theory!

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM

469

numbers when we get to twelve we have a dozen, as if there didn't
also exist couples, triplets and quartets, etc., i.e. simply different
ways of counting. The most concrete theoretico-practical explana-
tion, however, is that to be found in the first volume of Capital,
where it is demonstrated that in the factory system there exists a
quota of production which cannot be attributed to any individual
worker but to the ensemble of the labour force, to collective man.
A similar process takes place for the whole of society, which is based
on the division of labour and of functions and for this reason is
worth more than the sum of its parts. How the philosophy of praxis
has "concretised" the Hegelian law about quantity becoming
quality is another of those knotty theoretical problems which the
Popular Manual does not go into but regards as already known,
contenting itself with wordplay about water changing its state (ice,
liquid, gas) with changes in temperature, a purely mechanical fact
determined by external agents (fire, sun, evaporation of carbonic
acid, etc.).

In the case of man, who is this external agent? In the factory it is
the division of labour, etc., conditions created by man himself. In
society it is the ensemble of productive forces. But the author of
the Manual has not considered that, if every social aggregate is
something more (and different) than the sum of its components,
this must mean that the law or principle which explains the
development of society cannot be a physical law, since in physics
one does not get out of the quantitative sphere except meta-
phorically. However, in the philosophy of praxis quality is also
connected to quantity and this connection is perhaps its most
fertile contribution. Idealism, on the other hand, hypostasises this
mysterious something else known as quality, it makes it into an
entity of its own, "spirit", just as religion had done with the idea
of divinity. But if the notion of quality is a hypostasis in religious
thought and in idealism, that is to say an arbitrary abstraction
rather than a process of analytical distinction necessary fcr explana-
tory purposes, then the same is true in the case of vulgar materialism,
which "divinises" a hypostasis of matter.

This way of looking at the conception of society should be com-
pared with the conception of the State typical of the actual
idealists. 119 For the actualists the State has ended up being precisely
this sort of entity superior to individuals (though in the light of the
consequences derived by Spirito from the idealist identification of

See succeeding note and also note 70 on p. 424.

470

GRAMSCI: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

State and individual in relation to property, Gentile in L'Educazione
Fascista of August 1932 has been careful to make some qualifica-
tions. 120 The ideas of the vulgar actualists had degenerated into
such parrot talk that the only possible critique was humorous
caricature. Thus one could imagine a recruit explaining to the
recruiting officers the theory of the State as superior to individuals
and demanding that they should leave in liberty his physical and
material person and just enrol that mysterious something that
contributes to building that national something known as the State.
Or recall the story in the Novellind 12,1 in which the wise Saladin
decides the issue between the innkeeper who wants to be paid for
the consumption of the aroma emanating from his meat and the
beggar who does not want to pay: Saladin pays him with the
chinking of coin and tells the innkeeper to pocket the sound in the
same way as the beggar ate the aromatic exhalations.

Teleology

The treatment of the question of teleology brings out even more
blatantly the Manual's weakness for presenting the philosophical
doctrines of the past as all equally trival and banal, so that the
reader gets the impression that all past culture was a phantasmagoric
sequence of Bacchantae in delirium. The method is reprehensible
from various points of view. The serious reader, aiming to broaden
his knowledge and deepen his understanding, believes that he is
being fooled and extends his suspicions to the whole of the system.
It is easy to think one has got beyond a position by denigrating it,
but this is a pure verbal illusion. To give a burlesque treatment to
questions can be valid for Voltaire, but not everyone can be a
Voltaire, i.e. a great artist.

Thus the Manual presents the question of teleology in its most
infantile manifestations, while ignoring the solution to the problem

lso Spirito was an ideologue of the corporate State and an idealist philosopher.
Originally a student and follower of Gentile, he departed from Gentile's actualism
in the 1 930s. Around 1 930 he was aligned with Gentile against Croce and Einaudi
over the role of the State, but his position over the subordination of the citizen
to the State through the mediation of the "corporation" was more extreme
than that of Gentile and contained anti-capitalist implications (the "corporation
as property": see p. 291 of this volume) which were no doubt a reason for
Gentile's qualifications. For Gramsci's assessment of the overall debate see pp. 271-
272 and also PP. pp. 31-2, and MS. 275 277.

iaI The Novellino, otherwise known as the Cento JVovelle Antiche, is the earliest
extant collection of Italian short stories, dating from the thirteenth century. The
story in question, rather inaccurately recalled by Gramsci, is No. IX.

PROBLEMS OF MARXISM

471

offered by Kant. It could perhaps be demonstrated that in the
Manual there survives a lot of unconscious teleology which without
knowing it reproduces the Kantian point of view. See for example
the chapter on the "Equilibrium of Nature and Society".*

On Art

In the chapter devoted to Art it is affirmed that the most recent
works on aesthetics maintain the unity of form and content. This
can be seen as one of the most glaring examples of the author's
critical inability to establish the history of concepts and to identify
the real significance of the concepts themselves within various
theories. In point of fact the identification of content and form is
affirmed by idealist aesthetics (Croce), but on idealistic premisses
and with idealistic terminology. "Content" and "form" do not
therefore have the meaning the Manual supposes. That form and
content are identified means that in art the content is not the
"abstract subject", that is the novelistic plot and a particular mass
of generic sentiments, but is art itself, a philosophical category, a
"distinct" moment of the spirit, etc. Nor does form mean "tech-
nique" as the Manual maintains.

All the points and references to aesthetics and to artistic criticism
in the Manual should be collected and analysed. .Meanwhile one
can take as an example the section devoted to Goethe's Prometheus.
The judgment given is superficial and extremely generic. The
author, as far as one can gather, knows neither the exact history of

* From Goethe's Xenien: "The Teleologist" "We most humbly adore the
world's good Creator who when/The cork-tree first he made, also invented the
cork". 182 Croce in his volume on Goethe {Opere III, I2(i), p. 279) adds this note:
"In opposition to extrinsic finalism, generally accepted in the eighteenth century
and recently criticised by Kant, who had replaced it with a more profound
conception of finality." Elsewhere and in another form Goethe repeats the same
motif and claims to have derived it from Kant: "Kant is the most eminent of
modern philosophers, the man whose doctrines have most influenced my formation.
The distinction of subject and object and the scientific principle that everything
exists and develops for its own proper intrinsic reasons (that the cork tree, to use a
proverbial example, does not come into being to provide stoppers for our bottles)
was something I held in common with Kant, and later I devoted much study to
his philosophy." Might one not trace to a teleological root the expression "historic
mission"? In many cases indeed this expression has acquired an equivocal and
mystical meaning. But in other cases it does have a meaning, which, in the light
of the Kantian conception of teleology, could be maintained and justified by the
philosophy of praxis.

m The Xenien are a collection of epigrams written by Goethe and Schiller in
elegiac couplets. The translation here is from the Italian version given by Croce
as we have been unable to trace the original.

472

GRAMSCi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

this ode of Goethe's nor the history of the Prometheus myth in
world literature prior to Goethe and particularly in the period
before and during Goethe's literary activity. But is it possible to
give a judgment, of the type given in the Manual, without knowing
precisely these elements ? How, in their absence, can one distinguish
what is strictly personal to Goethe from what is representative of
an age and of a social group ? Judgments of this type are justified
only to the extent that they are not empty generalities containing
in themselves the most disparate things but are precise, proven and
decisive. Failing this they can only serve to disparage a theory and
to encourage a superficial way of looking at questions. (It is again
worth recalling Engels' phrase contained in the letter to a student
published in the Sozial. Akademiker.) 123

1M See Engels, Letter to Bloch, ai September 1890 (cit. above, note 74):
"Unfortunately, however, it happens only too often that people think they have
understood a theory and can apply it without more ado from the moment they
have mastered its main principles, and those even not always correctly. And I
cannot exempt many of the more recent "Marxists" from this reproach, for the
most wonderful rubbish has been produced from this quarter too."

NAME INDEX

Pseudonymous references, e.g. "the founder of the philosophy of praxis" for Marx
or "Ilich" for Lenin, are given under the normal name of the person. The letter
n after a page number refers to Gramsci's own (asterisked) footnotes and the letter
f to editorial (numbered) footnotes.

Abba, G. C., 101
Adler, Max, 389

Agnelli, Giovanni, 8, 286, 286/j 2g2
Abertini, Luigi, 72, 96, g6/~
Alfieri, Vittorio, 301
Alvaro, Corrado, 316
Ambrosini, Luigi, 72
Ansaldo, Giovanni, 73, 7471
Aporti, Ferrante, 103
Aquinas, St. Thomas, 364, 368, 387
Ardigo, Roberto, 375, 390, 444
Arias, Gino, 143

Aristotle, 8, 368, 458; Aristotelianism,

437, 446
Arzalini, M., 247 51

Balbo, Italo, 203
Bandello, Matteo, 141
Bandiera brothers, in, 112
Baratono, Adelchi, 389
Barbadoro, Bernardino, 53,/
Barsanti, Pietro, 154
Bassini, Edoardo, 7511
Bauer, Otto, 387, 463
Benni, A. S., 8

Bergson, Henri, 127, 127/, 198, 224,

252. 325j; 343", 360/, 375, 389, 391
Berkeley, George, 441
Bernheim, E., 408, 415
Bismarck, Otto von, 88, 154, 219, 262
Bixio, Nino, 101
Blanqui Auguste, 260
Bodin, Jean, 142, 14311
Boffito, G., 45871
Bolton King, A., 10911
Bonaparte, Joseph, 65
Bonaparte, Napoleon I., 63, 64, 77, 84,

112, 115, 118, 128/, 180, 187, 217,

219 22

Bonaparte, Napoleon III., 90, 105,
219-22, 264 [see also Subject Index
under Bonarpartism)

Bonomi, Ivanoe, 97

Bontempelli, S. E., 354/1

Bordiga, Amadeo, 167,/, 200^204,354
Borelli, Giacomo, 72
Borelli, Tommaso, 290
Borgia, Cesare (Valentino), 56/, 135,
Hi

Boulanger, Georges, 129, I2gf, 166,167
Breal, Michel, 451
Bruers, Antonio, 424
Bruno, Giordano, 450, 463 4
Brunschvicg, Leon, 421, 42271
Bukharin, Nikolai, 244, 24572, 376,

419-72, 419/, 425/
Buonarroti, Filippo, 260

Cabanis, Georges, 37571
Cadoma, Luigi, 6571, 8671, 145, 145/
235

Caesar, Julius, 17, 88, 217, 219 22
(see also Subject Index under Bona-
partism)

Calles, P. E., 22

Campanella, Tommaso, 294

Capasso, Aldo, 358, 359

Capponi, Gino, 103

Carducci, Giosue, 3951

Casottti, Mario, 446

Castiglioni, Arturo, 771

Castruccio Castracani, 135

Cattaneo, Carlo, 56/, 112

Cau, Umberto, 72

Cavour, Camillo, 57, 67, 82, 84, 98,

108 9, in, 154, 174
Chesterton, G. K., 362
Christ, 382

Chrzanowski, Albert, 86
Churchill, Winston, 218
Ciasca, Raffaele, 1 16
Cicotti. Francesco, 73
Clausewitz, Karl von, 88
Colajanni, Napoleone, 71
Confalonieri, Federico, 8 in, 103
Constant, Benjamin, 444
Coppola, F., 128/, 150/
Cosmo, Umberto, 72

474

GRAMSCi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

Crispi, Francesco, 66 9, 66/, 93, g^n,
96, 101, 227

Croce, Benedetto, and common sense,
199, 422; and dialectic, 137, 356;
and Marxism, 159, 389, 389/, 391,
436, 448; and politics, 127, 128/,
150/, 366/; and Southern Question,
72. 93 5; "Anti-Croce", 371; as
historian, J14 18, J 18-19; idealism
and subjectivism, 402, 436, 443«,
445, 45C/; ideology, 8, 150/, 376; on
art, 461, 471; on Campanella, 294;
on Church and State, 245; on "his-
tory and anti-history", I27n, 128/,
270 1, 369; on intellectuals, 55-6/,
271; on Loria, 458-60; on Machia-
velli, 135, 137-40; on religion and
ethics, 132, 132/, 344, 366; on
Renaissance, 393 4; on Vico, 364,
413

Cromwell, Oliver, 77, 83, 128/, 219,
299

Cuoco, Vincenzo, 59, $gf, 108
Cuvier, Georges, 369

Daladier, Edouard, 63, 64

D'Annunzio, Gabriele, gif, 464

De Man, Henri, 160, 160/, 197, 287,

376, 387. 4 ] 8 19. 43°
De Pietri Tonelli, A., 2g7
Depretis, Agostino, 227
De Ruggiero, G., 397, 444
De Sanctis, Francesco, 2g, 174, 175
De Silva, Mario, ig2«
Destutt de Tracy, A., 375*1
Diambrini Palazzi, S., 3gon
Diderot, Denis, 458
Disraeli, Benjamin, 216/, 262
Dominic, St., 33:
Dorso, Guido, 73, 82
Drahn, Emest, 415

Dreyfus, Alfred, 22,22 /, 166, 167, 223

Einaudi, Luigi, I5g, 265, 271, 2820
Engels, Friedrich, 162, 164, 257/, 261,
385-6) 39'. 396/, 402, 4'5> 4 l6 » 427>
437, 445. 446, 449. 457. 472; Anti-
Diihring, 371, 445/, 446; LududgFeuer-
bach, 381/; Socialism: Utopian and
ScientijU, 83n; Letters to Bloch and
Starkenburg, 427, 437, 472; on the

Spanish libertarian movement, 416
(see also Marx, Karl and Subject
Index under Philosophy of praxis)
Erasmus of Rotterdam, 3g4, 3g7

Ferrari, Giuseppe, 65, 65/, 75 6
Ferrero, Guglielmo, 307, 363
Ferri, Enrico, 71, 246, 246/
Feuerbach, Ludwig, 354, 3g6, 417, 456,
464

Foch, Ferdinand, 238

Fogazzaro, Antonio, 63

Ford, Henry, 285, 2g6, 303, 310, 311

(see also Subject Index under Fordism)
Fortunato, Giustino, 72, 72^ g3 5,

282

Foscolo, Ugo, 134, 135

Fovel, Massimo, 28g, 2go, 291, 294

Francis, St., 331

Freud, Sigmund, 376

Gajda, Rudolf, 167
Galiani, Ferdinando, 103
Gandhi, Mahatma, 107, 22g
Gardenghi, 290-1

Garibaldi, Giuseppe, 57, 61, 62, 63, 65,
76, 98, in, 112, 203/, 204, 23g

Gazzera, Pietro, 218

Gentile, Giovanni, actual idealism, g3,
271, 307, 402; and common sense,
422 24; and Marxism, 38g, 38g/;
educational reform, 24, 41/, 3g3/;
ideology, 8; on Bruno, 4147:; on
Modernism, 407; on the State, 271,
470

Gioberti, Vincenzo, 102, 104, log;
compared with Proudhon, 1 08, 1 62«,
399, 4'6

Giolitti, Giovanni, 68, 72, g4 6, g4/,

150/, 225/
Giovannetti, Eugenio, 306
Giovanni da Procida, 200
Giulietti (Captain), 343«
Giusti, Giuseppe, 423
Gobetti, Piero, 73, 73/, 82, 113
Gouhier, Henri, 421
Goethe, Johan Wolfgang von, 1 ig, 282,

406,471 2
Graziadei, Antonio, 38 1
Groethuysen, Bernard, 338H
Guerrazzi, F. D., 77

NAME INDEX

475

Guicciardini, Francesco, i"]of, 172,
173-5. 237

HaleVy, Daniel, 261

Hegel, G. W. F., and dialectic, 162s,
356, 369, 3g6; and liberal revolu-
tions, 162H, 373, 416; and Marxism,
396, 400, 402, 404, 442, 448, 449,
464, 465; as "materialist", 454;
historical experience, 259-60; in
European culture, 416 17; on French
Revolution and German philosophy,
78, 115, 117, 118, 395/!, 400, 402; on
political parties, 259 ; on the rational
and the real, 366/i 449 ; on the State,
146/; 208, 258, 262, 373; reason and
providence, 108^414 (seealso Subject
Index under Classical German Philo-
sophy)

Herriot, Edouard, 63, 64
Hitler, Adolf, 266

James, William, 372-3

Kant, Immanuel, 118, 199, 367 8,
373 4. 465, 47 1 ; neo Kantianism
and revisionism, 387, 379, 392

Krasnov, Peter, 234, 236, 237

Labriola, Antonio, 83, 386-8, 390, 457,
459

Lange, Friedrich Albert, 456
Lanzillo, Agostino, 159
Lassalle, Ferdinand, 262, 263
Laviosa, Antonino, 163
Lavoisier, Antoine-Laurent, 406
Leibnitz, Wilhelm Gottfried, 364
Lenin, Vladimir Ilich [Ulyanov], and
internationalism, 237, 240; and
"hegemony", 55-6/, 357, 365, 381-2,
381/; and "United Front", 238; on
education, 406; on leadership and
spontaneity, ig7; on revolutionary
dictatorship, 165/
Leonardo da Vinci, 56^ 200
Leopardi, Giacomo, 357, 358
Lorenzo de'Medici ("the Magnifi-
cent"), a 19
Lorenzo de'Medici, Duke of Urbino,
125/

Loria, Achille, 13, 162, 163, 164, 457,

458-60, 458/
Ludovici, Anthony Mario, 297
Ludwig, Emil, 88
Lukacs, George, 448
Luther, Martin, 393
Luxemburg, Rosa, 233, 238, 387, 392,

403

Luzio, Alessandro, 82

Macaulay, Thomas, 440

MacDonald, J. Ramsay, 220

Machiavelli, Niccold, 56/, 64, 78, 118,
125-43, 170. 172, 173-4. 247-52,
257, 266, 267, 391, 413-14; The
Prince, 1 18, 125, 129, 134, 141, 247;
Histories of Florence, 141; Art of War,

I3°«. 141

Maeterlinck, Maurice, 197

Malaparte, Curzio, 261

Malatesta, Errico, 70/j

Manzoni, Alessandro, 375

Maria Sophia of Naples, yon

Marinetti, F. T., 93/, 354»

Marsilio of Padua, 248

Martello, Tullio, 76

Marx, Karl, 133, 177, 199, 239, 240,
280/, 367/, 368/, 375. 377, 381-2,
382-6, 387, 391, 392, 396, 407-8,
410, 411/, 415-16, 423, 431, 456,
457/. 460/. 464. 468; and Engels,
384-6, 460/; and Lassalle, 263; and
Lenin, 381-2; and Loria, 459-60;
and Machiavelli, 133; and Plekha-
nov, 387; as historian, 407-8; crit-
eria for studying, 384-6, 464; his-
torical experience, 259, 260; on
common sense, 423; on ideas as a
material force, 377; on international-
ism, 240; Capital, 202, 387, 391, 460,
468; Civil War in France, 407 ; Commun-
ist Manifesto, 449; Contribution to the
Critique of Political Economy (Preface),
106/, 114, 138, 162, 177/!, 336/, 365,

367/. 371. 4'°/; 432, 459, 460;
Critique of Hegel's Philosophy of Right,
404/; Eastern Question, 239, 407; 18th
Brumaire, 1 66, 211, 407; Holy Family,
78, i62n, 199, 368, 370; Notes on the
Gotha Programme, 384; Poverty of
Philosophy, 109, 162, 416; Revolution

476

GRAMSCi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

Marx, Karl conid.

and Counter-Revolution in Germany, 407 ;
Theses on Feuerbach, 138, \&2n, 333/
352/, 375, 402, 435/» 438; on the
Spanish Constitution of 1812, 416
(for questions relating to Marxism
see also Subject Index under Philo-
sophy of praxis)
Mathiez, Albert, i8on, 184
Maurras, Charles, 257, 261, 375«
Mazzini, Giuseppe, 57/, 62, 76, 77, 101,
102, 107, 108-12, 114,204,454,454/
Michels, Roberto, 150, 204, 429, 430,
430/

Minunni, Italo, 290

Mirsky, D. S., 336, 34371

Miskolczy, Julius, 253

Missiroli, Mario, 650, 82, gqn, 290, 391,

39i/. 395. 443 4

Moltke, Helmut von, 139

Mondolfo, Rodolfo, 386, 3go

Mosca, Gaetano, 6n, 6f, 176, 2147!

Murat, Joachim, 65

Murri, Romolo, 62/

Mussolini, Benito, 95, 192/, 254/, 272 f,
284/!; Prelude to Machiavelli, 276 [see
also Subject Index under Fascism)

Napoleon — see Bonaparte

Natoli, Luigi, 95

Nenni, Pietro, 291

Niceforo, Alfredo, 71

Nitti, Francesco, 96, 96/, 1 50/, 1 76

Ojetti, Ugo, 96
Olgiati, Francesco, 38m, 391
Omodeo, Adolf o, 64
Orano, Paolo, 71
Oriani, Alfredo, 74/!
Orlando, V. E., 150/
Ornato, Luigi, 1 1 3
Orsini, Felice, 62, 1021J

Pagni, Carlo, 289, 291
Panella, Antonio, 143
Pantaleoni, Maffeo, 191
Panzini, Alfredo, 82
Papini, Giovanni, 287, 288
Pareto, Vilfredo, 6n, 159, 451
Parvus [Helphand], 84/1
Passigli, 290

Paul, St., 382

Peter the Great, 20

Philip, Andr£, 286, 310

Pirandello, Luigi, 93, 316

Pisacane, Carlo, 62, 62,/", 64, 107, no,

112
Pius IX, 61
Pius XI, 62
Plato, 8, 430

Plekhanov, George, 387, 387/, 388, 432,
456

Poggi, Alfredo, 389
Presutti, 343«

Prezzolini, Giuseppe, 7272, 72/, g^n, 451
Primo de Rivera, Miguel, 2 1 7
Proudhon, Pierre-Joseph, 76, 109

compared with Gioberti, 108, 16271,

398, 416
Puoti, Basilio, 29

Quinet, Edgar, 59/

Ramorino, Felice, in, 112

Renan, Ernest, 395

Ricardo, David, 400-2, 400/, 410, 412

Robespierre, Maximilien, 7g, 102, 1 18,

395. 402
Rocco, A., 128/, 150/
Rodolico, Niccolo, 283
Rolland, Romain, 1 75/
Romier, Lucien, 285
Rops, Daniel, 36m
Rosmer, Alfred, 238
Rosmini, Antonio, 375
Rossi, Cesare, 256
Rota, Ettore, 88
Rousseau, Jean-Jacques, 1437!
Ruffo, Fabrizio, 92
Rugiu (General), 71
Russell, Bertrand, 447
Russo, Luigi, 125/2, 141, 172, 413-14

Saint-Leon, Etienne, 265
Salandra, Antonio, 96, 150/
Salvatorelli, Luigi, 72
Salvemini, Gaetano, 72, g^n, 96, 180
Savonarola, Girolamo, 135, 135/, 172,
173

Scarfoglio, Carlo and Domenico, 69, 70
Schopenhauer, Arthur, 407
Sergi, Giuseppe, 71

NAME INDEX

477

Serrati, G. M., 34371

Soderini, Piero, 135

Sombart, Werner, 445

Sonnino, Sidney, 86ri, 150/"

Sorel, Georges, "myth", collective will,
126-30, 126/"; "sprit of cleavage", 52,
126/; syndicalism, 197; and intel-
lectual reform, 395; and Marxism,
386, 389, 391 ; and the Right, 261

Spartacus, 54/

Spaventa, Bertrando, 142

Spaventa, Renato, 283

Spinoza, Benedict [Baruch], 464

Spirito, Ugo, 187/, 257, 257/, 271-2,
291, 318, 469, 470/

Stalin, Joseph Vissarionovich, 240

Steed, H. Wickham, 33271

Stendhal [Henri Beyle], 37571

Sturzo, Luigi, 62/

Sue, Eugene, 63

Suetonius, 17

Tanari, (Senator), 7571

Tansillo, Luigi, 463-4

Tasca, Angelo, 93/

Taylor, Frederick, 8, 302, 302 f, 306;

Taylorism, Taylorisation, 2g, 242 f,

247. 300, 308-13
Tilgher, Adriano, 461
Tittoni, Tommaso, 21771, 251
Tolstoy, Lev Nikolaevich, 107, 443
Torraca, Francesco, 9771
Treves, Claudio, 224, 225/, 3437;

Treves, Paolo, 172, 173, 174, 175
Trotsky, Lev Davidovich [Bronstein],

84", 165/, 236, 237, 238, 240, 256,

3°i. 302. 386
Trozzi, Mario, 3437;

Ulpian, 249

Vailati, Giovanni, 3487;, 349
Valentino -see Borgia, Cesare
Valois, Georges, 167
Varisco, Bernardino, 443
Vecchi, Nicola, 290
Verga, Giovanni, 101
Vico, Giambattista, "conceit of
nations", 151, l^if, 153; Theory of
knowledge, 35/, 364; Providence,
108, 108/, 119, 293, 413, 416
Villari, Pasquale, 136
Vittorio Emanuele II, 57, 1 13
Volpe, Gioacchino, 54/, I77n, 391/
Volpicelli, Arnaldo, 257, 257/
Voltaire, Francois-Marie Arouet, 470

Weber, Max, 197J, 22871, 33871
Weiss, Franz, 409
Weygand, Maxime, 234
Whittaker, Edmund, 24571
Wilhelm II, 88

Zinoviev, G. E., i6g_/"
Zivkovic, Petar, 217
Zuccolo, Ludovico, 257

SUBJECT INDEX

This index is intended as a guide to the occurrence of subjects and concepts in
Gramsci's text. In the majority of cases references are to the words used by Gramsci,
but a number of phrases have been "decoded" and some general subject references
inserted. The letter n after a page number refers to Gramsci's own (asterisked)
footnotes and the letter f to editorial (numbered) footnotes.

absolute monarchy, 130, 1 73

Action Party {Partita d'Azione), 57-66,

74-7, 80-1, 89-go, 97 102, 109, no,

1 13-14, 183, 204
actualism, 93, 187/, 271-2, 424, 470-1
Africa, 21

Albertine Statute, 69
America, Central and South, 2 1-2
Americanism, 272, 279, 280, 281, 285,
286, 289, 292, 293, 302, 303, 304,
307, 316-18; Americanism and Fordism,
279 318 (see also Fordism, United
States)

anarchism, 149; anarcho-syndicalism,
197; Catalan Movement, 198;

"appearances", 137-8 (see also objec-
tivity)

arditisimo — see commando
Avanti!, 290, 291

bloc, in ideological field, 60-1, 72, 105,
105, 328, 332-3, 345; in social and
political field, 74, 76, 94, 95, 96, 100,
157 3,202 5, 223; historic, 137, 168,
360, 366, 377, 418

Bolsheviks; Bolshevik Party, 84-5*2, 165,
240-1 (see also political party and
Name Index under Lenin)

Bonapartism, 215, 216, 227, 228, 301;
Caesarism, 219 23; Napoleonism, 2 4 1

braccianti — see under peasantry

brigandage, 105

bureacraucy, 27, 185 90, 196, 210-14,
228, 245, 246, 254, 268-9; of politi-
cal party, an; democratic-bureau-
cratic system, 13, 17 (see also central-
ism)

Byzantium, 1 96, 396, 409 ; byzantinism,
200-1

Catharsis, 366-7, 419

Catholic Church, and French Revo-
lution, 340; and intellectuals, 7-8, 17,
328-9, 331. 397; Catholic Action,

398; centralism, 188; Church and
State, 18, 170/, 245, 262; clericalism,
1 01-2, 161 ; Counter-Reformation,
332, 372; doctrine and organisation,
408-9; Jesuits, 136, 332, 397; Liberal
Catholic movement, 61, 62, 150/
Catholicism, and objectivity of the real,
444, 446; compared to philosophy of
praxis, 332; concept of man, 351-2,
361; Modernism, 62, 332; popular,
396

centralism, bureaucratic, 155, 188, 196;
democratic, 155, 187, 188, 189;
organic, 186, 188, 196, 418

charisma, 129, 210, an, 429, 450

China, 22, 23, 285

Christian democracy, 332

city/country, 14-15, 63, 90-102, 2 13-14,
243, 287 9, 295; and Southern
Question, 14-15. 7°-i> 92-9

civil society, 12 13, 235, 238, 242, 245,
260-3, 264, 328 ; and political society,
12, 16, 52, 208, 227, 245, 253, 263,
268, 271, 293; and the State, 12, 52,
160, 170/, 195, 208, 238, 260, 261,
263, 268; hegemony, 12 13,261,271,
404

class/social group, dominant/ruling, 7,
12, 13, 18, 52, 104, 160, 182, 199, 202,
228, 258, 269, 271 ; leading/directive,
57-8. 159. 240. 275, 408; instrumen-
tal/subaltem/subordinate, 16, 26,
52-5, 56, 160, 182, 196-200, 202,
210, 336-7, 387; fundamental/ essen-
tial, 5. 5/> 6, 12, 13, 15, 1 15, 1 16, 182,
222; parasitic, 281; "middle class",
216, 216/, 229; and caste, 115; and
education, 26; and intellectuals,
5 7. 60, 97, 452-53; and party, 148,
151, 152, 157, 227, 228, 269; and the
State, 116, 268, 269 (see also peasan-
try, proletariat, rural bourgeoisie,
hegemony, leadership)

SUBJECT INDEX

479

classical economics, 272, 395, 399-402,
411,431

classical German philosophy, 78, 115,
"7. 199. 342. 346, 454; and P hil °-
sophy of praxis, 357, 393, 395. 399~
402

collective man, 349, 429, 469; and

conformism, 242, 324 (see also

individualism)
collective thinker, 340-1
collective will, 125-33, 194. 195. 229.

413; national-popular, 130, 131, 132,

133

collective worker, 201-2, 303
Comitadjis, 230-1

commando (arditi; artidismo) 203 J 1 ", 230-

3 (see also warfare)
common sense, 134, 197, 199. 323~33>

348, 396,419-25. 444
Commune — see Mediaeval Communes,

Paris Commune
Companies of Fortune, 64, 88, 141
concept of man, 133, 351-62
condottiere, 125

conjuncture; conjunctural, opposed to
"organic", 177, 178, 180, 185;
strategic conjecture, 217, 218

consent, 80/, 125/, 259, 266, 271, 275

corporatism, aristocratic, 17; [fascist],
94, 120, 255 6, 289, 291-4, 315;
mediaeval, 249, 468; trade-union,
286; in Hegel, 259 (see also economic-
corporate)

corruption, 80/, 95

cosmopolitanism, of Catholic Church
and Italian intellectuals, 17-18, 63,
1 1 7-18, 249, 262, 274; of Enlighten-
ment, 18, 374; and internationalism,

237. 274-5
crisis, of authority, 210, 275-6; of civil
society, 242/; of libertinism, 298-g;
organic, 26, 210-18, 318

dialectic, 370, 396, 434 6, 437, 448,
449; "rational", 456-7; thesis/anti-
thesis, 109-10, 165; in Hegel, i62n,
356, 369, 396; in Croce, 137-8, 356;
in Lukacs, 448

domination see under leadership

dual perspective, 1 69

economic-corporate, 16, 18, 13 r, 132
160, 161, 173, 181, 182, 262, 263, 270,
27'. 272, 325, 335, 370,404

economic determinism — see econo-
mism, fatalism

"economic man", 400^ 401, 410-11
(see also science (economic), classical
economics)

economism, 15B-68, 178, 184, 198, 233,
262 (see also economic-corporate)

education (and school system), 26, 43,
103, 246, 258; and hegemony, 350;
and idealism, 41, 393; and intellec-
tuals, 10-12, 342; and religion, 41,
329; common school, 27, 29-31,
32 3, 40, 406; Gentile reform, 24, 41 f

electoral abstentionism, 161

elites, 5, 6n, 77, 192, 193, 203, 269, 301,

334. 335. 34°. 43°/
England, 18-19, 83, 128/, 156, 186/,

216; Labour Party, 160-61, 220, 335;

Trade Unions, 156
ethics, 373-74, 409-1 o

Factory Councils, 201-202 (see also
Soviets, Ordine Nuovo, Turin)

fascism, 69, 94, 119-20, 156, 203 f,
210-5, 218, 220, 223-4, 226, 228-9,
255, 269-70, 273-4 (see also corpora-
tism and Name Index under Musso-
lini)

fatalism, 107, 168, 224, 336, 337, 342,

343"
federalism, 58, 76
finance capital, 279, 316
fixed proportions, theorem of, 153,

190-2, 285
folklore, 34, 197, 323, 362, 4*9
Fordism, 279, 280, 281, 310-13; and

high wages, 280, 303, 310-13; and

Italy, 287

France, 18, 77-81, 82-3, 1 14-15, 118,
142, 179-80, 221-2, 230, 259, 296,
316, 394, 421 (see also French Revo-
lution, Paris Commune)

freedom, and concept of man, 360;
and necessity, 242,261, 267, 317, 342,
367. 367/, 382, 401, 404 7

Freemasonry, 182, 187, 280, 286

French Revolution, 18, 74, 77-82, 112,
259; Gironde, 79; Jacobins, 63, 66,

48o

GRAMSCi: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

French Revolution — contd.
77-80, 8of, ii2, 143, 243, 254;
"Maximum" and Le Chapelier laws,
79) 80 f, 82; September massacres,
81; Terror, 6r, 406; Thermidor, 79;
Vended, 79, 182

Futurism, 93

General strike, in syndicalist theory,

127, 238
Gentiloni Pact, g6

Germany, 18-19, 83, 118, 211, 230,

269-70, 318
Greece, 215—16

hegemony, 12-13, 53. 53/, 55-6/,
55 60, 80/, 104-6, 125/, 128/,
160 1, 170, 176, 181-2, 206-8, 210,
228 9, 238-9, 241, 242/, 243, 255,
258, 261-4, 267, 270, 271-2, 275 6,
388, 404, 408; in French Revolution,
77, 79, 82, 83; in Risorgimento, 58,
59. 66, 70, 76, 94, 98, 103, 104-6;
in the factory, 285; philosophical and
practical, 333; and Lenin, 357, 365;
and philosophy of praxis, 442, 462;
of Western culture, 416 18,447

historicism, 345, 401, 415, 417, 442,
448, 449, 451, 465; and philosophy
of praxis, 399, 404-7 ; conservative,
396-9

humanism, 248, 303, 371, 388, 417, 465

idealism, 117, 187^ 371, 390, 407, 417,
430. 435. 437. 448; and education,
393; and intellectuals, 7 8, 270-2;
Italian, 402, 413 (see also actualism,
classical German philosophy)

ideology, 138, 162, 164, 166, 168, 181,
182, 197, 216, 270, 371, 375-7,
406-7, 427, 433 (see also super-
structures)

immanence; immanentism, 361, 371,
412, 417, 449-50, 452; cultural
policy, 329 ; speculative/historicist,
399-402; and philosophy of praxis,

449-50
India, 22-3, 229-30, 285
individualism, 147, 361 ; economic, 293,

468

industrialism, 1 8, 293, 304

intellectuals, 5-23, 60-1, 97, 102-4,
210, 270 2, 323 36, 344-5, 418,
432-3; "organic", 6, 12, 15, 16, 18,
20, 60, 330; "new" 340, 452-3;
"pure", 189, 289, 389-90; "tradi-
tional", 6, 10, 14, 15, 17, 18, 20, 22,
270; urban and rural, 6, 14-16, 74-5,
93-4; class position, 5 7, 60, 97,
452-3 ; national-popular, 204-5; an< l
bureaucracy, 186, 245; and non-
intellectuals, 9, 350; and philosophy
of praxis, 332-5, 392-3, 395-8; and
political party, 15-16, 188-90, 335;
and the masses, 75, 190, 332-3, 334-5,
442; and the State, 117, 262

internationalism, 237, 240-1, 274, 275

international relations, 176, 182, 264

interventionism, 225/

intransigence, 161, 167

Ireland, 231

Italy, 17 18,52-120,143,272 5,281-4,
287, 288, 291, 292, 314 {see also
Risorgimento)

Jacobinism, 63, 65-6, 67, 74, 77-9, 80/,
81, 102, 106, 112, 117, 130-2, 143,
220, 243, 259, 399

Japan, 22 3, 310, 311

labour aristocracy, 311, 313

language, 131/, 325, 348-9, 450 2,
452/; philosophical and political
(translatability) 78, 400-1, 403-4,
417

law; legal system, 195 6, 242, 246-53,
257-8, 260, 267, 280; the legislator,
265-6

laws of tendency, 410, 412, 428; falling
rate of profit, 68, 280

leadership (direzione), opposed to domi-
nation, 55/, 57-9, 104-6; political
and military, 84, 86 90; and spon-
taneity, 196-200; leaders and led,
144-6, 350, "dirigente" as specialised
and political, 1 0 (see also class, hege-
mony)

liberalism, 106, 119, 150/, 245-6, 263;
and economism, 159, 262 ; and syndi-
calism, 158 61, 162, 179; and the
State, 160, 262-3, 293; "Young
Liberal" movement, 72, 290

SUBJECT INDEX

liquidationism, 107
Livorno Congress, 291

materialism, dialectical, 435, 456;
historical, 1 63, 276, 407, 409 1 o, 425-
6, 442, 455-6, 465; philosophical/
metaphysical, 362, 390, 396, 425,
426, 434, 437, 444, 455; vulgar, 368,
374. 375. 402, 407. 434. 469; of
French enlightenment, 362, 370, 375,
456; of Sorel, 129; and common
sense, 396; "wave of materialism",
275-6

"matter", 361, 407, 465 8
Mattino, 11, 69 70

mechanicism, 107, 224, 343n, 371, 432,
438

Mediaeval Communes, 53 J, 64, 131,

216/, 24.9, 264, 275, 283, 33 1
mezzadria — see under peasantry
military in politics, 214-18
military- political analogies, 13^, g7n,

139. 152 3. 231-3, 235-7, 238, 239,

243. 432 3
Moderate Party, 57-63, 65-6, 74. 76-7.

84, 89-90, 98, 100, 102-4, "°, »3.

183

modernism — see under Catholicism

national popular, 20, 130, 131, 132,
133, 204, 421, 421/; people nation,
418

necessity and regularity, 410-14 [see

also under freedom)
Neo-Guelphism, 58, 109, 1 10
"new type of man", 286, 297, 302 ; of

worker, 3 1 o
"normal times", 327
noumenon, 138, 367 8

objectivity, of knowledge, 371 ; of the

real, 367 8,440-8;
oratory, 440

Ordine Nuovo, 9, 286, 290, 292 {see also
Turin)

parasitism, 281, 283, 284, 285, 287, 28g,

291, 293, 315, 316
Paris Commune, 179, 198
parliamentarism, 80/, 106, 143, 192 4,

216, S43-4, 246, 253 4, 255-7, 259,

395

passive revolution, 58/, 5g, 59/, 105-20,
206, 279

peasantry, 210, 213, 224, 241, 272-3,
358; braccianti, 75-6, 873, 313;
sharecropping {mezzadria), 76, 283;
and education, 42—3; and intellec-
tuals, 6, 14-16, 74-5

permanent revolution, 80, 80/, 83, 84,
165, 179, 180, 220, 236, 241, 242,
243

pessimism, 173-5, 35 8

Piedmont, 21, 66, 85-6, 87, 8g, 98, 100,
104-6, 183, 189

philosopher, and politician, 352; and
scientist of politics, 403 ; as specialist,
347; "democratic", 350; [Marxist],
405; relationship to practice, 373;
all men philosophers, g, 323, 344,
354. 357

philosophy, 323-77; and common
sense, 325, 330, 331, 4ig; and
democracy, 362-3; and history,
344 5; and politics, 326-7, 331, 357,
372. 395. 403; and praxis, 402 3;
and sociology, 425; in education,
41 2; "creative", 345-6; specula-
tive, 370-1

philosophy of praxis, 381-4^; and
common sense, 330-3; and econo-
mism /fatalism, 158-65, 336, 342;
and "human nature", 133, 355; and
ideology, 197, 376, 406-7; and
immanentism, 371, 399-402, 412,
450; and politics, 136-37, 244, 357;
and sociology, 426-9; components,
399-404, 431; historicism/historicity,
398 9, 403 7. 436; originality and
autonomy, 133, 387, 398, 435, 437,
463, 464, 468; orthodoxy, 387-92,
461, 462-3; revisions, 387 g2;
thought and action, 364, 381

physiocrats, 143, 143-4^; "economists'
sect", 149

planned economy, 120, 279

political party, 1 14-15, 128/, 129,
138 9, 146, 147-58, 161, 176, 181,
187/, 191 2, 194-5, 203, 227 8, 253,
259. 264-9, 335, 429; and class, 152-
7, 210, 227, 269; and hegemony, 165,
26g; and intellectuals, 15-16; and
the State, 2 66-8; "ideological", 372 ;

482

GRAMSCI: PRISON NOTEBOOKS

political party — contd.

PSI, 224-6; reformist, 157-8; totali-
tarian, 147-8, 565

politics (political activity), 134, 326,
360; and diplomacy, 172-5; and
philosophy, 115, 326-7, 331, 357,
395> 4°3> and political science, 244,
248; all men political beings, 265

politics (political science), 133-4, 136-7,
243-4> 247-53, 395> 427, 428-9;
French, and German philosophy,

1 J 5» 399. 402, 431
political society — see under civil society,
state

popularism; Popular Party, 62, 161, 220
positivism, 246, 371, 374. 388, 43 8
pragmatism, 348-9, 372-3, 389, 391,
452

praxis, and philosophy, 403; revolu-
tionising of (rovesciamento), 366,
3 69, 407 {see also theory and practice,
philosophy of praxis)

press, 148-9, 167, 195-6

progress, 357-9

prohibition, 279, 299, 302, 304;
alcoholism, 303-4

proletariat [international class], 240,
241 ; [urban element], 224; and
bourgeosie, 116, 259-60; and philo-
sophy, 357, 402; proletarian labour,
8

psychoanalysis, 280, 294-5 i see

Name Index under Freud)
puritanism, 299-304

quantity and quality, 192, 199, 222,
307-8, 347, 363-4, 468-70

"Red Week" (June 1915), 70/, 154,
217/1, 226

Reformation, 132/, 329, 361, 393-4,
395. 397. intellectual and moral
reform, 1 32-3, 395

regulated society, 257-8, 257/, 263, 282

relations of force, 175, i7gn, 180-5,
190, 211, 217

religion, 328, 340, 362, 417; and
common sense, 323, 326; and State
and party, 266; Croce on, 132, 132/,
344 {see also Catholic Church,
Catholicism)

Renaissance 132/, 170/, 264, 329, 361,

372. 393-4. 395

Restoration (post-Napoleonic), 115,
260, 398; revolution/restoration, 59/,
109, no, 113, 117, 118, 119, 206,219

revisions of Marxism, 387-92

revolution see French Revolution,
hegemony, passive revolution, per-
manent revolution, praxis, Restora-
tion, Russia

Risorgimento, 56-106, 183, 227, 274,
398; "Five Days" of Milan, 85, 109,
112; Milan insurrection (1853), 82,
101, 179; Novara 87; Parthenopean
Republic, 92, 108; Roman Republic,
85, in, 112 {see also Action Party,
Moderate Party)

Rome Theses, 200

Rotarianism; Rotary Club, 182, 187,

280, 286, 318, 373
rural/landed bourgeoisie, 11-12, 120,

131, 203, 212-14, 215, 273, 274
ruralism, 287-g, 318 {see also city/

country)

Russia, 19-20; Revolution (1917), 120,
235-6, 237, 357; Soviet Union, 118,
301

Sardinia, 95, 97, 98

saving, 11, 283, 314, 316

science, 33-4, 244-5, 263, 341, 344,
433-4. 437-9. 448, 457 8; and folk-
lore, 362; economic, 401, 410-12;
natural/physical, 438, 442, 445, 446,
465-8; political: see politics (politi-
cal science)

scholasticism, 200, 364, 446 {see also
Byzantinism and Name Index under
Aquinas)

self-government, 186, 193, 268

Serbia, 105

sexual question, 279, 294-301, 304-6
sharecropping see under peasantry
Sicily, 68, 95, 97, 98; Sicilian Fasci, 67,

95; Sicilian Vespers, 194, 199
sociology, 243 5, 415, 425-30. 436-7
Southern Question, 67, 70-4, 92-9
Soviets, 193-4, 224 {see also Factory

Councils)

Spain, 22, 215-16; Catalan movement,
198

SUBJECT INDEX

483

spontaneity; spontaneism, 127-9, 196-
200, 225, 233, 238

State, 52-4, 1 16-17, 1 81-2, 210, 226,
227-8, 238, 239, 242-9, 252-3,
253-4? 257-64, 264-5, 266 72, 275,
293, 398, 404; and bureaucracy,
185-6, 189; and capital, 314-16;
and civil society, 12-13, 52, 160,
170/, 195. 207 8, 238, 245, 260-3,
268, 293; and law, 195-6, 247, 258;
as dictatorship and hegemony, 239,
263; as expression of a class, 182, 269

subjective and objective conditions,
113, 202, 367

subjectivism, 440 8

superstructures, 7, 20, 137, 235, 295,
442, 444, 446, 448, 452; structure
and, 137-8, 162, 177, 180, 181, 263,
276, 335. 365 7> 371-2, 376, 403,
408, 431, 461

syndicalism, 58/, 158-61, 197, 238;
"state syndicalism" (corporatism),
94; anarcho-syndicalism, 197

theory, 369,425, 427;' 'modem theory"
[Marxism], 198 (see also philosophy
of praxis)

theory and practice, 114, 190, 333,
334-5. 336, 364 5, 383. 425

Trade Unions, 106, 161, 187/, 204, 220,

243, 285; and political party, 225-6;

American, 286, 2g2; British, 156;

Italian, 292
transformism, 58, 58/, 97, 109, 128/,

227

Turin (1919-20), 93, 198, 225, 226
United States, 20-1, 272, 279-317
Utopia; utopianism, 8 , 58, 1 74, 194—5,

242/, 257-8, 263, 294, 299, 405, 406,

406/

vagabondry (lazzaronismo), 71, 282
voluntarism, 178, 194, 198,203-5,225,

343/! ; "Garibaldism", 204
"volunteers", 89, ill, 203

warfare, war of manoeuvre/movement,
108 10, 120, 206, 229-35, 236, 237,
238-g, 243; war of position, 88,
108 10, 1 1 1, 120, 229-35, 237. 238-ft
243; Garibaldine or partisan, 239;
underground, 229;

will, 171 2, 174-5. 213, 4°3>. 4io (see
also collective will, voluntarism)

World War (1914-18), 106, 111, 113,
228 (see also Name Index under
Cadorna)